


Journeying the Realms

by searchingwardrobes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Captain Cobra - Freeform, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Future Fic, Humor, Missing Scenes, daddy killian, mommy emma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23380288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: Family vacations - fairy tale style. Set in the universe of the Last Battle, but can be read alone.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Kudos: 14





	1. Ghosts of Camelot

**Author's Note:**

> These used to be posted separately, but I am now putting them together in one fic instead of a series to streamline my list of works. They were originally posted between October of 2016 - October of 2017. Now canon divergent.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jones family is traveling around the realms. While visiting Camelot, Emma falls deathly ill. In her feverish delirium, she revisits memories of the first time she and Killian were in Camelot.

Five years of peace in Storybrooke had been shattered by the arrival of two villains on a pirate ship. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that it only took one villain to shatter the peace of a Jones family vacation. Traveling the realms had become so easy; too easy perhaps. Frequent visits to Narnia and Telmar to visit Henry, multiple trips to Arendale to see their friends, even their journey to Neverland with Tink had been uneventful – pleasant, actually. The worst thing Emma remembered was her disappointment at not being able to find the exact location of her and Killian’s first kiss so they could show the kids. And that was only because the jungle had become too bright and beautiful once freed from Pan’s rule. Hardly something to complain about.

Their visit to Camelot had begun just as pleasantly. Queen Guinevere and King Lancelot had welcomed them with joy and thrown a ball in their honor. (Though Killian was embarrassed by this, reminding the queen with much shame that he was Merlin’s murderer who cursed them all to Storybrooke. The Queen had waved off his concerns, assuring him with a mysterious smile that Merlin knew more than he had let on.) It was little Elsa’s first ball, a fact which the entire castle was aware of long before the gates were flung wide. The enthusiasm of the six year old girl was enough to have even the most stoic of the knights doting on her. The queen assigned Elsa her own personal lady in waiting who dressed the child in a miniature replica of the white lace dress Emma had once worn. In Emma’s opinion, the crown of white flowers looked even prettier against Elsa’s raven waves. And if Killian spinning around the ballroom with their little girl in his arms wasn’t the most adorable sight in all the realms, well, she didn’t know what was.

It was supposed to be a quick overnight trip, really. All they wanted to do was take a horseback ride out to the middlemist fields and have a family picnic. But Emma awoke the morning after the ball barely able to swallow without intense pain, her head pounding a fiery, staccato rhythm behind her eyes. Just as she was forcing her gritty eyes open, a familiar scream rent the air, and she was on her feet, Killian racing out the door ahead of her. The room spun before she could follow him, and Emma barely managed to grasp one of the bed posts to keep herself from crashing to the floor. Killian had to help her back into bed when he returned, worry creasing his brow. Their daughter was fine, for a Jones anyway. Elsa had awoken to find herself without magic – a leather cuff on her wrist that no one could remove. Better than being kidnapped by a witch or almost dying. At any rate, Emma was too sick to analyze it.

At first, Emma assured everyone it was merely a cold. One day in bed, and she would be fine. But one day turned to two, and then three, and then four, and . . . well, eventually the days all blended together in a feverish haze anyway. Emma suddenly understood why people died of the simplest ailments here. All she wanted as she shivered under her pile of blankets was one tablet of ibuprofen. Killian would have taken her home to ibuprofen and Dr. Whale on day one, if the hat hadn’t gone missing. Because of _course_ it did. And of _course_ the leather cuff kept Elsa from opening a portal to send Emma through. On the second day, the Knights of the Round Table brought word to the castle that Morgan Le Fay was in Camelot, seeking to take the throne from Guinevere, because of _course_ she was.

Meanwhile, Emma’s fever raged. She preferred the sweet oblivion of sleep over the shivering, sweating thrashing and misery. Killian was there often, placing cool wet cloths (that to be honest weren’t all that cool) onto her forehead. But other times it was Guinevere or a lady in waiting. When Emma was coherent enough, she worried. She could hear the sounds of battle, and once Killian’s image swam before her. He was strapping on a sword as he looked down on her with an agonizing expression. She knew he hated to leave her side, but she also knew he wasn’t the type of man to hang back as others rushed to battle. She tried to make her mouth form words, she tried to lift her hand, but she could do neither. _I love you. Come back to me._ But then she was slipping back into dark nothingness again.

A sorceress or healer of some kind came to see her. She felt calloused hands on her brow and whispered words. _This isn’t magic. She’s ill._ That was all Emma understood, Killian’s strangled and worried voice causing her to fight the pull of unconsciousness. But it was useless to resist. She was ripped from a feverish sleep by a banshee-like scream, the moon shining outside her chamber window. A heavy silence followed, and Emma lay there, heart pounding in her chest. Just as she struggled to sit up, a cheer erupted. She sighed in relief, collapsing back against the bed. The battle must be over.

When next Emma opened her eyes, she saw Killian striding across the room towards the desk by the window. She called to him, asking about the battle, but he didn’t seem to hear. Then she was startled to hear her own voice.

“Could you hand me that feather? No, the blue one.”

Emma sat up slowly and turned her head. The room had an ethereal glow, and the figures in the scene playing out before her were shadowy and filmy. She looked more closely at her husband: the slightness of a younger build, the perfectly black hair without the tiny hint of gray that had just begun at his temples, the smoother skin about the eyes that didn’t crinkle with quite so many crow’s feet. This was Killian Jones nine years ago, the first time they were in Camelot.

This Emma was thinner, too, body not yet softened by the birth of two children in her mid-thirties. This Emma didn’t have smile lines around her lips from loving her pirate and laughing with their children. This Emma was burdened with the darkness. The exhaustion in her eyes wasn’t from comforting a teething toddler at 3 am. This Emma was being bled dry by an internal demon. Emma wanted to tell this Emma that she would win this fight. She wanted to tell her that her future – oh, your future Emma! – if only this Emma could know she didn’t have to be afraid. But Emma knew somehow that these were just ghosts conjured by her feverish mind.

The younger Killian laid a comforting hand on his Emma’s shoulder. “I found these seashells for you. You said you wanted some.”

Emma watched as her younger self took the shells with trembling hands, weaving the seashells into the dreamcatcher. She bit her lip as she recognized the dreamcatcher – it was Killian’s. The one Zelena would hold in front of him as she cackled with glee.

“What are all these for?” asked Killian’s past self, gesturing to those already hanging in the window.

“They hold memories . . .”

The ghostly figures shimmered and faded. Emma sighed and felt herself falling amongst the bedclothes. A hand lifted her head, and something was put on her tongue. Was that a pill? Water was lifted to her lips, and Emma drank. _She needs to go home. . . She’s too sick . . . never survive the trip. . . send word . . ._ The voices faded as darkness enveloped Emma once again.

When Emma opened her eyes again, Killian was in bed with her. But . . . that was odd. He was fully dressed and sitting atop the covers, a book in his hand. Emma blinked and saw it was the younger, shadowy version of him.

“You don’t have to stay up with me you, know. Dark ones may not need sleep, but pirates do.”

Her younger self spoke from the desk, still weaving a dreamcatcher as she looked over her shoulder at the man who refused to leave her side.

“I won’t let you fight this alone, love. I’m here as long as you need me.”

Her younger self chuckled – as much mirth as the darkness would allow, anyway. “At least take your boots off.”

Younger Killian laughed too, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine. Really.”

Younger Emma shrugged, shook her head, and returned to her dreamcatchers. Emma sighed against her pillow as she gazed at her pirate. How long had this fever kept him out of her bed? She tried to reach out and touch the ghost, but she couldn’t move her arm. She settled instead for gazing at his handsome face, watching as his eyelids fluttered closed and the hand holding his book slid to his lap. The book slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor. The noise caused her younger self to startle and whirl around. Her face softened as she rose from her chair and approached the bed. She tenderly pushed the hair from his forehead as she gazed at his face.

“He looks so young and carefree when he’s sleeping, doesn’t he?” Emma asked her younger self. “Just wait until you wake up in his arms. Your head against his chest, relishing the thud of his heart under your ear. Overwhelmed that you got a second chance.” She felt silly saying such things to a figment of her mind, but she couldn’t help herself.

The Emma from the past bent over and pulled the boots gently off Killian’s feet. Slowly, she lifted his legs, resting them on the bed. Gently, she adjusted the pillows behind his head, caressing his cheek as he shifted and sighed in his sleep. Emma’s younger self studied the man she loved for a moment, biting her lower lip. Emma remembered her inner turmoil, not sure why in retrospect she had resisted crawling in bed next to him. She shook her head in frustration at the younger version of herself as she placed a chaste kiss to Killian’s cheek and went back to her dreamcatchers.

The images shimmered out of focus again, and Emma was pulled from the room of ethereal light by cries that tore at her heart. _Mommy! Mommy! Shhhh . . . lad, Mommy is very sick . . ._ Emma tries to rouse herself, to no avail. Her little Liam! Her precious Momma’s boy! How long has he been without her hugs? Who has soothed his fears in the middle of the night? Can a two year old possibly understand?

Liam’s cries are replaced by the trilling of songbirds. The light is so bright, she fears for a moment that she’s dead. But then Emma feels the soft brush of rose petals against her fingertips. Her eyes flutter open and focus on a face hovering over her, a tender smile and bright blue eyes. Then he’s kissing her, and it’s been so long. She may not be dead, but surely this is heaven. For the first time, she has taken her younger self’s place in the hallucination, and it all feels so real. Emma moans into the kiss, Killian’s name falling from her lips. The desire for him to take her right here – on her back, amidst this carpet of flowers – is just as overwhelming now as it was then. Past and present colliding.

Killian pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against hers. “Not with the darkness in you, Emma. As much as I want you right now, I won’t do it.”

Emma’s surprised when the words are not her past self’s, but her own. “But the darkness isn’t in me, Killian. This was nine years ago. We’re married now, but I’ve been sick.” She strokes Killian’s stubbled cheek and feels a tear course down her own. “It seems like an eternity. I want you to hold me again.”

“Then wake up, love.”

Emma furrows her brow in confusion as she searches her husband’s face. Not the face from nine years ago; the face with the extra crows feet, the face with softer and fuller cheeks that dimple more easily, the slight pepper of gray at his temples.

“Emma? Emma, love, can you hear me?”

“Mom? Mom, I’m here.”

“Don’t worry, Henry, her fever broke last night.”

Emma’s eyes flutter open. Sunshine is streaming through the chamber window, and both Killian and Henry smile down at her. They exchange relieved, ecstatic grins at the sight of her green eyes looking back at them. Killian strokes her brow.

“How do you feel, love?”

“Tired . . . so tired.” Emma manages to say, her voice rusty from disuse. She tries to stay with her men, but her eyes are heavy again.

She hears another voice from behind Henry’s shoulder. “Your mother’s going to be fine, Henry. She just needs rest.” Jill. Emma’s eyes flutter open enough to see the pretty brunette lead Henry from the room.

“Killian,” she manages to croak out.

“Yes, my love?”

“How long is the journey from Narnia to Camelot?”

Killian gives her a tender smile and strokes the dimple in her chin. “Two weeks by sea with good weather and a fast ship. And _The Dawn Treader_ is the fastest ship in all the realms. Besides mine, of course.”

Two weeks. Exactly how long had she been sick? Two weeks. And before that, a messenger would have had to be sent. Preparations for a sea voyage with the Crown Princess of Telmar and her fiancé would have been no easy feat, either. Killian watches her face intently as she processes all of this.

“Emma, we weren’t sure . . .”

He clears his throat, unable to finish, the emotion choking him. He doesn’t have to say it. They weren’t sure if she would make it.

Emma sleeps for three more days. Now, when she awakens she is alert, though weak. She can take broth with assistance. Killian, Henry, and Jill take turns spooning the broth into her mouth. Jill is, of course, the chattiest one, filling Emma in on wedding preparations, princess training, and generally just gushing about Henry. On the third day, she begs Killian for a bath. A brass tub filled with steaming water is brought by the castle staff, and once they’re alone, Killian undresses her and lowers her into it. She sighs in relief, it feels so good. She still doesn’t have the strength to wash her own hair, so Killian has to do it for her. His hand trembles slightly and his adam’s apple bobs nervously, and Emma laughs for the first time in days – weeks, she supposes – at the desire she sees in his eyes.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed for wanting me, pirate, I’m your wife.”

Killian blinks in surprise at her words, an emotion she can’t quite place flitting across the deep oceans of his eyes. He carries her back to the bed tenderly and makes love to her hesitantly, as if she might break. But it’s what she wants; she missed him, even if the passage of time was fuzzy. Afterwards, the look in his eyes finally makes sense when he begins to weep as he holds her close. His mother. She should have known. Her illness reminded him of when he lost his mother.

On the morning of the fourth day after her fever broke, Emma awakens feeling suffocated by all of the blankets. She kicks them all off, wrapping her and Killian’s naked bodies in a single sheet. She is in his arms, her cheek pressed to his chest, the thump of his heart in her ear a reminder – as it always is – of their second chance. She wriggles in his embrace, testing her body. It feels a bit stronger, and she desperately wants to get out of bed today. Her stomach growls. And real food. Real food would be good.

Killian’s eyes flutter open and he mumbles a good morning. He runs his good hand through her hair and asks her how she feels.

“I’m ready for our picnic in the middlemist field,” she answers, smiling up at him. She knows he won’t agree to it, knows he’ll say it’s too much too soon. She also knows he’s right. But that’s not why she says it.

“We will my love, be patient,” he answers with a laugh. “The children are as eager as you are.”

Emma shakes her head. “Not with the children. Well, eventually, but first I want to go there alone. With you.”

“Why?”

Emma smiles in that we way she knows makes him crazy. She shifts her body, her bare breasts sliding against his bare chest. She grins even wider at the sharp intake of his breath. When she speaks, her lips are hovering over his. “Because, Killian Jones, there’s something I wanted to do last time we were there. You said it wasn’t the right time.”

“Are you referring to more enjoyable activities on your back?” Killian’s grin is broad as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Mmhm,” Emma mumbles as she kisses him.

“Well, someone’s feeling better,” Killian chuckles as he pulls back slightly. “What’s brought this on?”

Emma runs her fingers through his hair then slides her hand down to caress his jawline. “You, Killian. Always you.”

  



	2. The Deeper the Lie, the Louder its Echo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neverland has returned to its former glory seven years after Pan's death. The Jones family, along with Tinkerbell and her husband and son, are on a family vacation to the island. When the children get trapped in the Echo Caves, truths must be faced.

This story is a gift for G – the “Captain” of the fan page “Captain Swan Forever” on Facebook. Back when I first discovered _Once_ , I found your page while suffering through my first hiatus between 4A and 4B. Through your page, I discovered this wonderful world of fan fiction. The rest, as they say, is history. Your page is always positive and always fun. This fandom loves you, no matter what a few haters may say. We love you, G!

G also made a wonderful edit to go with this story. If I was savvier with technology I would have posted it here, but unfortunately I'm not. So go to Captain Swan Forever on Facebook to check it out!

. *****************************************************************

“If our camp was due east of Dead Man’s Bluff, then the spot we’re looking for should be. . . “ Killian Jones groaned as he saw the _x_ he had slashed in the trunk of the tree twenty minutes earlier. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, giving the bottom of the tree a swift kick.

“And we’re back where we started,” sighed Tinkerbell, stating the obvious.

“This is so _boring_!” moaned the sandy-haired little boy shuffling behind Tink.

“Brandon!” the fairy scolded her son.

“Come on, Mom, can’t we row out to Skull Rock now?” he continued to whine, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting.

As Tink’s husband Logan lectured their son about whining and disrespecting his elders, Emma Swan Jones wanted to come to the boy’s defense. A romantic trip down memory lane wasn’t exactly an exciting vacation activity for a six year old. Vacation. A family vacation. To Neverland. What if someone had told Emma the day she kissed Captain Hook for the first time that they would return to this island almost a decade later with their children for a family vacation? She probably would have hyperventilated. Either from laughter or panic. _A one-time thing_. Emma chuckled to herself.

A small hand slipped into hers. Emma looked down into the face of her six year old daughter. Elsa Jones had her father’s thick black hair and sea blue eyes. She also smiled the same way Killian did, with a crooked tilt to her lips and an arch to her brows. The dusting of freckles across her button nose and the dimple in her chin were the only features she had inherited from her mother.

“Don’t listen to Brandon, Mommy. _I_ want to see where you had your first kiss.”

Killian spun in a slow circle, his long leather duster swishing against the thick foliage of Neverland’s jungle. The kids had begged him to put on his old leathers for this trip, and Killian had happily obliged. Emma was pretty happy about it, too. Watching him stride through the jungle in that outfit brought back plenty of old memories. She had forgotten the smoldering desire she had felt so keenly back then. The desire she had pushed aside – mostly – for the sake of her son. But heaven help her, she had forgotten how badly she had wanted him back then. Forgotten how hard she fought to suppress the urge to drag him deeper into the jungle and pin him to the nearest tree. She and Killian definitely needed to arrange some alone time on this trip – away from the kids.

“Swan,” her husband’s voice cut through her fantasies, making her blush, “are you sure this isn’t the spot?”

Emma shifted two year old Liam to her other hip as she surveyed the area. “I don’t know, Killian, something about it just doesn’t feel right.” The problem was that the island had changed so much since Pan’s death. She had replayed that kiss hundreds of times. She had dreamt of that kiss during the year in New York when she wasn’t even supposed to remember Killian. In her mind’s eye, the foliage wasn’t this vibrant with flowers. The light was darker. The air heavier with humidity. The trees bent more ominously.

“My navigation skills are practically flawless, love,” the timbre of Killian’s voice changed as he caught her eye. He ran his tongue along his lower lip. “Perhaps you aren’t remembering the kiss correctly.”

Emma blushed like a schoolgirl under his gaze. “Oh, I remember it clearly.” Liam wiggled in her arms, and she set the toddler down.

Killian sauntered towards her, leading with his hips the way he used to do. He lowered his chin and tapped his lips just as he had that day so long ago. “You sure you don’t need to refresh your memory?”

Emma knew she had the goofiest grin on her face as she swayed towards her husband. His lips were inches away, when –

“Oh gross! Don’t kiss!” Brandon yelled.

“Yeah, ewwww!” Elsa agreed.

The adults all chuckled at the sight of the two children with their hands over their eyes. Liam squealed and mimicked his big sister, peeking between his fingers.

Emma shook her head and crossed her arms. “Elsa, you said you wanted to see the spot where we first kissed.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t tell ya to actually do it!” Elsa wrinkled her freckled nose in disgust as she spoke.

The adults laughed again, and then everyone agreed to abandon their current quest and head to Skull Rock instead. Though it wasn’t a place Emma particularly wanted to go. Killian, who was now carrying Liam, came up beside her and put his arm around her.

“Are you okay, love?”

Emma shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You _say_ you’re fine, but my experience tells me that doesn’t always _mean_ you’re fine.”

Emma looked into his sparkling eyes and smiled. He knew her so well. “So maybe I’m not thrilled with the idea of going to Skull Rock. The memories I have of that place – they’re not pleasant.”

Killian gave her arm a squeeze. “And no one would ever fault you for that. We don’t have to go.”

Emma shook her head, “No, I can do this. I mean I was fine at the top of the bluff. That’s where my father almost died.”

“Yes, love, but you didn’t witness that first hand. Skull Rock is a different story.”

Emma mulled over Killian’s point. They had fallen behind from the others, and Emma vaguely heard Tink warning Brandon and Elsa not to run too far ahead. Maybe Killian was right. Maybe they should skip Skull Rock. On the other hand, maybe it had completely changed like everything else in Neverland. After all, there was no more dreamshade. No more sound of crying children marring the night. There was an actual distinction between day and night, for that matter. Emma recalled swimming in Mermaid Lagoon yesterday. The way the sun sparkled off the clear water, washing over their backs and warming the sand. The mermaids themselves welcomed them kindly. Whether that was because of the change that had come over the island or her husband’s friendship with the daughters of King Triton and Poseidon, Emma wasn’t sure. Either way, the day had been idyllic. So had the picnic earlier today beside the waterfall up on the bluff. So far, Neverland had been like a private paradise rather than the place of nightmares she remembered. Maybe she could –

“I can’t find the kids!” Tink’s panicked voice cut through Emma’s thoughts. The five words every parent fears most making Skull Rock seem like a silly concern.

“What do you mean, you can’t find them?” Killian asked, struggling to stay calm.

Tink wrung her hands in distress. “I don’t know. They ran ahead. Logan and I called after them to wait. We rounded the corner – and they were gone!”

“Guys!” Logan yelled. “Get over here!”

The other three adults raced towards the sound of his voice. Emma felt the breath leave her lungs when they found Logan. “I know this place,” Emma gasped out, her heart sinking.

“The echo caves,” Killian whispered.

“Are you sure they’re in there?” asked Tink, clutching her husband’s arm tightly. As if in answer to her question, two voices cried out from the cave’s interior.

As they all raced inside, Emma said hopefully, “Maybe, without Pan, the cave isn’t . . .” Her voice, and her hope, tapered off as they faced the same deep chasm she remembered from last time. And on the other side of that chasm, inside a crude cage, were Elsa and Brandon.

All four parents cried out for their children. In a flurry of pixie dust, Tink rose into the air and attempted to fly across the chasm. With a loud cry, she struck an invisible barrier and crashed back down to the stone floor of the cave. Her husband rushed to her side and helped her up.

Killian hung his head dejectedly. “It looks like spilling our secrets is still the only way.” Liam, seeming to pick up on the tension around him, whimpered against his father’s shoulder. Killian brushed a kiss against the little boy’s golden curls. “It’s okay, lad. Your sister will be just fine.”

Emma, unable to help herself, rounded on Tink. “I thought you said all of Pan’s curses were undone!”

“I said they were _coming_ undone! The island almost died under Pan’s influence. It takes time!”

Emma took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry, Tink. That wasn’t fair. This isn’t your fault.”

“Well,” Tink admitted, “this trip was largely my idea.” She bit her lip, glancing around at the other three nervously. She took a deep breath, rubbing her palms up and down her legs. “So, it’s only fair that I spill my guts first.” Tink closed her eyes, and when she spoke the words all came out in a rush. “A long time ago, when we were both in Neverland, and really lonely . . . I slept with Hook.”

Tink opened one eye nervously, holding her breath for everyone’s reaction. Killian’s eyes were as wide as saucers, and the tips of his ears were bright red. Emma on the other hand, seemed nonplussed and Logan was attempting to hide a chuckle behind his hand. Most importantly, the cave didn’t shake. No bridge began to form.

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes. “I’ve known that for years, Tink. Killian told me when we first started dating.”

Tink huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. Her own cheeks turned pink. “You mean I blurted that out and embarrassed myself for nothing?”

Her husband couldn’t help laughing now. “Afraid so, honey.”

Tink scowled at him. “Then why don’t you help us out, Mr. Honesty?”

Logan held up his hands and chuckled again. “Don’t look at me. I’m apparently the only adult here who _hasn’t_ slept with Hook.”

Tink narrowed her eyes at Killian, who wore a shit-eating grin. “And you! Don’t even say it, Hook. Men!”

Logan stepped forward and wrapped his wife in a comforting embrace. “Seriously, sweetheart. I wish I could help, but there are no secrets between us.”

Tink lifted her face towards her husband, her cheeks now wet with tears. “Then what do we do?”

Killian cleared his throat, shifting Liam in his arms. “Well, it looks like it falls to me then. The former villain.” He swallowed hard and looked straight at Emma. “I didn’t help reunite Ariel and Eric. I betrayed them. To get my ship back from Blackbeard.”

Nothing.

Killian furrowed his brow in confusion. “I already told you that?”

Emma smiled at him. “Ages ago.”

Killian thought again, biting his lower lip. “The night of our first date, I made a deal –“

“- with Gold,” Emma finished for him. “To get your hand back, but he tricked you into thinking it was cursed, so you made another deal to get rid of it.”

“Okay,” Killian continued, wetting his lips and thinking some more, “Zelena was able to curse my lips because –“

“- because you swore on the name of the woman you loved – my name.”

“And I told you about my father . . . “

“Killian,” Emma stopped his words by gently taking his hand, “the only person here with secrets . . . is me.”

Killian’s eyes widened in surprise. Emma gave him a nervous smile and then darted a glance to Tinkerbell. Then she took a deep breath, and plunged ahead. “You and my parents didn’t hear my secret the last time we were here. My secret was . . . that I was hoping Neal was dead.”

The cave shook and several feet of rock jutted out suddenly over the chasm. Emma lowered her head, not ready to see Killian’s or Tink’s reactions. Keeping her eyes fixed on the ground, she continued. “I know it sounds horrible now. Now that he’s really gone. But it’s true. I just couldn’t face the pain of what he did. He abandoned me. He let me go to jail for his crime. He said it was so I could fulfill my destiny, but that’s crap.” Emma dared to lift her gaze to Killian’s face. His jaw clenched, but she couldn’t decipher his feelings. “You would have found a way, Killian. If you had been in his shoes, we would have done it together.”

Emma looked away again, across the chasm. “He didn’t come back for me. August sent him a postcard. But he never came. And when I found him in New York, he ran from me.” Emma’s voice fell to a whisper. “He never chose me.”

Emma stared at the beginnings of the bridge – only a few feet long. There was still a long way to go. “My parents thought I still loved him. I did love him. But I wasn’t _in_ love with him anymore. It was already over.” Emma held Killian’s gaze for her next confession, tears welling up in her eyes. “Some people think I ended up with you by default. Because Neal died. But that’s not true. The truth is, before we left Neverland, Killian, I had already chosen you.” The rumbling in the cave couldn’t tear Emma’s eyes away from her husband’s. “That’s what I was trying to say at the town line. When you said you would think of me everyday, I said ‘good.’ I hated leaving Neal for Henry’s sake. But leaving you broke my heart.”

As the cave rumbled again, Emma closed her eyes against the tears that were welling up. “There are so many things I _hate_ , that I’ve kept bottled up inside. I _hate_ that Neal never believed in me.” The cave rumbled again. “I _hate_ the condescending way he always talked to me. Like I was still 17.” More rumbling. “I _hate_ that he never once asked for my forgiveness.” As the cave rumbled again, Emma felt empowered. She clenched her fists at her sides as she shouted her final secret. “And most of all, I _hate_ that my parents named my brother after him. Why? Why would they do that? Who _does_ that?”

Emma was sobbing now and Killian’s arms were around her, little Liam sandwiched awkwardly between them. Tink and Logan ran past them, running quickly across the stone bridge to retrieve the children. In a blur, Emma’s legs crumpled under her, and then Elsa was deposited in her lap. Through her tears, Emma peppered her little girl’s face with kisses.

“I’m so sorry, Mommy!” Elsa said, her lips quivering. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I won’t run off again – I promise!”

Emma laughed, rubbing the tears from her cheeks. “It’s okay, sweetie, you’re safe. That’s all that matters now.” Emma stood shakily to her feet. She looked nervously from Killian to Tink, who held Brandon tightly in her arms. “I’m sorry you two had to hear all of that. I know you both loved him in your own way.”

Tink grasped Emma’s arm. “Don’t apologize Emma. The Baelfire we knew was just a boy. As Neal the man, he hurt you. I’m glad you were finally honest about it.” Tink gave Emma’s arm another squeeze then had a silent conversation with Killian. “Logan, could you take Liam? And Elsa come with me, your parents need a minute.”

Once they were alone in the cave, Emma was suddenly afraid once again to look Killian in the eye. Gently, he put two fingers beneath her chin and lifted her face to meet his. Compassion and tenderness were shining in his eyes.

“Why did you keep all of that inside, my love? For all these years?”

Emma stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Killian’s waist. His arms encircled her, holding her tight. “Everyone remembers him as a hero,” she explained, her cheek pressed against Killian’s shoulder. “It just seems wrong to slander his name.”

Killian ran his fingers through Emma’s hair for a few moments, then stepped away from her so he could look into her eyes once again. He cupped her face in his good hand, his hook steady at her waist. “That doesn’t change how you feel, Emma. It doesn’t erase the hurt. I want to share that burden with you, Emma. Surely you know you can tell me anything.”

Emma smiled up at him, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She remembered a quote from their wedding: _Now our joys are doubled; now our burdens are halved._ Why had she waited so long to tell him? Emma sighed and turned her face, placing a kiss to the center of Killian’s palm. He smiled down at her with that same look he always gave her – like she was the most precious treasure he had ever found.

“Mommy! Daddy! Come quick!” Elsa shouted excitedly from the cave’s entrance.

Killian placed a tender kiss to Emma’s forehead before they left the cave hand in hand. The sight that greeted them took Emma’s breath away. The sky was filled with sparkling shimmers of color, darting in and out among the trees.

“What is it?” Emma breathed.

“Fairies!” Elsa squealed, bouncing up and down exuberantly.

Emma looked to Tinkerbell in confusion. “But I thought you said you were the only fairy left in Neverland.”

Tink laughed as she watched the fairies do their acrobatics in the skies. “I was! But they’ve come home!” She looked down at Elsa with an excited grin. “Do you want to go to Pixie Hollow and meet them?”

“YES!!!” Elsa exclaimed, almost beside herself with excitement.

Tink took the little girl’s hand in hers. “Well, let’s go then.”

Brandon bounded ahead next to his father, who still held a now sleepy Liam. Elsa skipped along beside Tinkerbell, chattering away. “Do you think Rosetta will be there? Or Iridessa, or . . .”

Killian fell into step behind them until Emma stopped him with a hand to his elbow. He had barely turned to face her when she grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and hauled him in for a passionate kiss. When it ended, Killian rested his forehead on hers and, smiling teasingly, began to say, “That was –“

“- something I’ve been dying to do all day.” Emma finished for him.

Killian grinned and bent for a second kiss. This time, he didn’t have to chase her lips. This time, her heart was already his.


	3. A Man to Man Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jones family has traveled to Narnia for Henry's wedding to Jill. Henry has concerns, but there's only one person he trusts to share them - his stepdad, Killian Jones. At the wedding, surprises are revealed, especially when Aslan arrives to bless the happy couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said you didn't have to read the Last Battle to enjoy these stories, but you do need to know one important detail: in this universe, Henry falls in love with Jill Pole who turns out to be Princess Aravis, daughter of King Caspian and Queen Susan in Narnia. So, this wedding takes place in Narnia with characters from my version of that land. (This was written long before season seven, so this isn't me hating on canon, just how I wrote this future fic at the time!)

After centuries of practice, there was very little that Killian Jones hadn’t learned to do one handed. Or with one hand and a hook. His Swan had once teased him that he would find any excuse to use said hook, but truth be told, it was useful. The only times that he honestly felt his disability was when he didn’t have that piece of metal at the end of his left arm. It was amazing the way he had adjusted and adapted over the years.

Yet, there were still times he wished he had both hands. The early days of courting Emma, for one, until he came to realize that she as well loved every part of him. Even that part. Today was another one of those times as he watched David tie the cravat at Henry’s throat. It took him back to the day Henry had sought him out for help choosing an outfit for his first school dance. While Killian had no trouble helping decide that the blue tie was best, it had smarted a bit when he had to step aside for Regina to actually tie it. He felt equally inadequate today. And robbed, honestly. Robbed of another moment he should be having with his oldest son. Because Henry was just as much his son as little three year old Liam, even though one was his blood and one was not.

Henry’s gaze flitted from the hands moving deftly at his throat and his grandfather’s reflection in the mirror. “And I thought ties were complicated,” he groaned. His grandfather merely chuckled in reply.

“There you go,” David said with a grin, slapping the young man on the shoulder. “You look good, Henry. Like the prince you are.”

Henry tugged at the neck of his shirt and grimaced at his reflection in the mirror, “It isn’t too over the top? I’ve gotten used to the clothes in this realm, but this? You don’t think I look . . . ridiculous?”

Killian had to admit that the styles in Narnia and Telmar were a bit different than in the Enchanted Forest. He didn’t particularly care for the velvet, fur lined tunics over puffy sleeves with elaborate cravats at the throat. Yet, David was right. The look suited Henry well, the wine color of his tunic deepening the dark brown of his eyes. The buckler at his waist looked natural, and he carried the sheathed ceremonial sword at his hip with confidence. So different from the lad who sought out a cowardly deck hand for help so many years ago. Now Henry looked to Killian for approval, not seeming to trust his grandfather’s opinion.

“David’s right,” Killian assured him, “a finer prince I’ve never seen. Your lady love will think so too, I’d wager.”

Henry studied his reflection for a moment, and Killian got the impression he was mulling something over. He shuffled his feet and his face went slightly pale. “Speaking of Jill, I was wondering if I could talk to you, Dad?” Henry glanced at his grandfather. “Alone?”

David nodded his head sagely in understanding, and Killian was relieved that he seemed to take no offense. “Sure, Henry, I’ll just go check on – “

“Look at me! Grandpa, Daddy, Henry! Look!”

The three men chuckled at the interruption of seven year old Elsa, who had burst into the room with drama and confidence, just like her father. She twirled around in her flower girl dress, a pale lavender dotted with wine colored embroidered flowers that matched Henry’s tunic. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head in an intricate mass of corkscrew curls, more wine colored flowers woven throughout. A tiny silver tiara, encrusted with tiny pearls, was nestled just below the mass of curls. The hairstyle made his baby girl look just a little too grown up for Killian’s taste, and he suddenly had to swallow a lump in his throat.

Emma entered the room behind her chuckling, three year old Liam, who was the ring bearer, balanced on her hip. The little boy wiggled in her arms, and Emma lowered him to the ground. As she straightened, Killian took in the sight of her, her beauty leaving him breathless as always. Her dress was in the Narnian style, the skirt slimmer than those worn by royalty in the Enchanted Forest. It was a sky blue, with voluminous sleeves trimmed in white fir. The sweetheart neckline and bust of the dress was embroidered with intricate gold designs. Her hair was mostly down, falling in a cascade of loose curls down her back, the top pulled back in a simple French braid crown. A circlet of silver rested atop her head, encrusted with tiny diamonds. The royal family of Narnia had presented Henry’s entire family – even Killian – with circlets and tiaras upon their arrival three days prior, and insisted they be worn at all official wedding events. The only thing that made Killian wear the bloody thing was Henry. He had sensed enough tension with the lad’s future in-laws – one in particular – so the last thing Killian wanted to do was insult their hosts.

“Killian,” Emma admonished with a laugh and a shake of her head, “that circlet is askew again.” She stepped forward and straightened the simple ring of platinum with Narnian symbols etched in gold. “Although it is kind of sexy,” she teased.

David groaned behind her. “Emma, please.”

Emma just laughed and winked at her husband as Liam raced past them and flung himself in Henry’s arms. The little boy lifted the little satin pillow he held in his hand and pouted at his big brother. “I got’s a pillow, Henry. But where the rings? I ‘spose to got the rings.”

Henry pressed his forehead to his baby brother’s as he answered, “I’m sorry, kiddo, but it’s just for show. You don’t actually get to carry the rings.”

Liam pouted even more and crossed his arms over his chest as he scowled. With his curly blonde hair and blue eyes, the stance made him look like the spitting image of his grandpa. David laughed as he swept in and scooped the boy out of Henry’s arms.

“That’s my boy!” he crowed as he looked teasingly at Killian. “Wouldn’t you say?”

Killian pretended to scowl, but he had accepted long ago that their youngest was David Nolan all over again. “You know, mate, if you love these munchkins so much, you could go entertain them so their mother and I can have a moment with the groom.”

“Absolutely,” David replied as he tickled his grandson, eliciting squeals of delight.

“Swing me up, grandpa!” Elsa cried, reaching her arms up. David complied and swept her up, swinging both children in a circle while they cried out in delight.

“Dad, I swear, if you mess up her hair, you’ll be spending the remainder of this trip in the form of a toad!” Emma cried in alarm.

“Sorry,” David mumbled sheepishly as he lowered the children back to the ground. “Did it take you long?”

“Me?” Emma asked with wide eyes. “Hell, no! Electrical curling irons on a seven year old are bad enough. But literal spears of iron heated in a literal fire? I could barely watch while Mom and Regina did it. I’m not going through that stress again, believe me.”

“Okay, kids,” David said, “let’s go find your Uncle Neal and entertain ourselves calmly.”

“Actually, Mom,” Henry spoke up with some hesitance, “if it’s okay, I’d like to talk to Dad alone.”

Emma didn’t seem hurt in the slightest as she smiled at Henry gently. “A man to man talk, huh?” she asked as she patted Henry’s cheek affectionately. Something she now had to reach up to do. “That’s fine, Henry. We had breakfast together this morning. You can have this time with Killian. Whatever the groom needs, right?”

Emma gave Henry one last hug and then followed her father and the children out into the corridor. A heavy silence descended with the absence of the children, and Killian noticed Henry shuffling nervously. Killian spotted a settee near the fireplace and gestured towards it.

“Would you like to sit?”

Henry nodded gratefully, and Killian waited patiently after they were both seated. He knew better than to push Henry. He would talk when he was ready, and not sooner. He was like his mother that way.

“Are you all having a good time?” Henry finally blurted out. Killian knew full well he was stalling, but he didn’t mind.

“Oh yes, everyone has been very kind. Queen Lucy in particular.”

“Yes,” Henry nodded, “she’s just as she is described in all the books. Joyful, kind, and full of faith. She embraced me, no questions asked, on our very first visit here.”

“I was surprised that the wedding is here in Narnia and not in Telmar. Jill – Aravis I mean – is the crown princess of Telmar, not Narnia.”

Henry laughed. “Yes, everyone calls her Aravis now, but I just can’t. She’s Jill to me and always will be. Kind of like how Mom is still Swan to you.” Henry fiddled with the hilt of his sword, “And as for the wedding being here, Jill is still from the royal line of Narnia. For the marriage to be official in the eyes of Aslan, the lion must come and speak a blessing over us.”

“So he is real,” Killian breathed. The feeling that came over him at the mention of Aslan’s name was hard to put into words. A thrill went through him that was equal parts joyful anticipation and terror.

Henry smiled at him, “Yes, very real. I haven’t met him yet, but whenever his name is spoken, a feeling I can’t describe washes over me. Like I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life.”

They both fell silent again, and Henry gazed pensively into the fireplace, though it was empty and cold on this bright June day. “Speaking of waiting and moments . . .” he began, trailing off and chuckling nervously. “Wow, that was a horrible segue. What I’m trying to say is . . . I’m nervous.”

“Everyone groom is nervous on his wedding day,” Killian was quick to assure him. “And every bride, too. Or so I’m told. Your mother and I were both nervous. Even though neither of us had any doubt it was right. But it’s still a momentous occasion, and there are so many people there watching –“

“It isn’t today that I’m worried about,” Henry quickly clarified. “It’s tonight. You know – the wedding night.”

“Oh,” was all Killian said, waiting once again for Henry to elaborate. He remembered well several talks with the lad when he was a teenager, about Violet. So he knew Henry wasn’t going into his wedding night a virgin.

“You see,” Henry rushed on, looking down at his shoes, “Jill is a virgin. It was important to her to wait, and I was totally supportive of that. But now, the time has come, and it just seems like a lot of pressure. I mean, with Violet I was a horny teenager, and we didn’t really plan it. It just sort of happened when we were alone in my room. You know, one thing leading to another? So, tonight . . .” he trailed off. “Am I making any sense?”

Killian clasped Henry on the shoulder reassuringly, “I know exactly what you mean. I’ve been there myself.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Please, Dad, you were like a rock star in the Enchanted Forest. I find it hard to believe you were ever nervous.”

Killian cleared his throat awkwardly, not sure he should bring Emma into this. But surely if he was tactful . . . “I was with your mother.”

Henry, thankfully didn’t seem disgusted, but instead merely surprised. “You were?”

“Aye,” Killian chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck, “we had just returned from the Underworld, and we were both so nervous. Like a couple of teenagers. I was grinning like an idiot. I think I giggled. Bloody giggled. Very embarrassing for a pirate of my reputation.” 

“Wait – “ Henry said, shaking his head, “you mean, it wasn’t until after the Underworld? I always thought – I mean I didn’t want to think about you and Mom – but, really? After the Underworld?” “Aye,” Killian said with a serious nod of his head, “because your mother was different. Special. Precious. Like Jill is to you.”

Henry nodded, absorbing the words, “Yes, Jill is special. But I worry because this will be her first time and . . . “ Henry blushed furiously as he trailed off, squirming a little on the settee.

“Don’t be embarrassed, lad,” Killian encouraged him, “just like when you were a boy, you can talk to me about anything.”

Henry took a deep breath. “I’m worried about hurting her.”

Killian smiled gently, “The fact that you are worried about that tells me you won’t.”

“What if I disappoint her? She told me she’s relieved that one of us has experience. But I really don’t have much. What if it doesn’t live up to her expectations?”

“Remember what I told you when you came to me in high school? Loving a woman isn’t about experience or prowess, it’s about putting her and her needs first. If you do that, you can’t fail.”

Henry let out a breath, and Killian got the impression that with it, a lot of his worries fled. “One more thing. I’m – eager for tonight as well as nervous. What if she . . . doesn’t want me? What if she still isn’t ready?”

At that Killian chuckled and gave Henry a teasing poke to the shoulder, “You mean the girl who pulled you behind that tapestry at the banquet last night? From the compromising position I found you two in, I don’t think that will be a problem.”

Henry groaned as his face turned bright red.

“Thank goodness I found the two of you, and not King Caspian.”

“I would rather her father catch us than High King Peter. Caspian would just pummel me with his fists. Peter would run me through with his sword.”

Killian narrowed his eyes at that revelation. Henry was only confirming what he had already guessed. “I noticed that you have won over all your in-laws. Except for the High King. Why is that? A courtly blunder on your part? He didn’t strike me as pompous.”

“No,” Henry answered, shaking his head, “nothing I’ve done. It’s who I am. Or rather, who my family is.”

“The Charmings?” Killian asked incredulously. He couldn’t imagine the king having a problem with any of them. Perhaps Regina?

“The other side of my family. He found out who my grandfather is – on dad’s side.”

“The crocodile,” Killian spat. Even after all these years and the death of his old arch enemy, the name aroused muted anger in his veins. “Let me guess. Rumplestiltskin ruined High King Peter’s life somehow.”

“Indirectly, but yes. Have you ever wondered why the High King is the only Pevensie sibling still unwed?”

“Aye, it did seem odd to me. One would think he needs an heir.”

“Exactly. The entire kingdom is pushing for him to choose a bride. But he refuses to wed anyone but his true love, and marrying her is impossible. You see, centuries ago, a Narnian named Ramandu made a deal with the Dark One. No one can remember anymore what it was about.”

“And let me guess,” Killian cut in, “he didn’t read the fine print of the crocodile’s deal.”

“No, he didn’t. The price he had to pay was that his daughter, Lilliandil, would be turned into a star. Ramandu begged the Dark One to have mercy, offering to take Lilliandil’s place. Grandfather refused, but did say that he would revise the deal. If Ramandu was willing to become a star, Lilliandil would be allowed to return to human form every seven years for seven days. Ramandu agreed, assuming that Lilliandil’s curse could be broken in seven years with true love’s kiss. She was engaged, you see, to a young man in the village.”

“But the cur didn’t wait for her, did he?”

Henry shook his head. “No, when Lilliandil returned seven years later, she found him married to someone else, with children. She was so heartbroken, that from then on, whenever she returned to earth, she stayed in a secluded cabin in the woods to wait out her seven days.”

“I think I see where this is going. She met High King Peter, didn’t she?”

“Yes. One day, the high king was out hunting the white stag. When Lilliandil fell to earth, she spooked King Peter’s horse. He was badly injured when he fell –“

“And she nursed him to health in her cabin, and by the end of the seven days, they had fallen in love.”

Henry smiled at Killian, “You’re ruining my story telling, you know.”

Killian lowered his head and gestured with his good hand. “My apologies. Proceed.”

“Lilliandil didn’t tell him about the curse until the end of the seven days. She hadn’t expected to fall in love. Peter swore he would return in seven years to the same spot; that he would never love another. Lilliandil didn’t trust that he would, but seven years later, there he was. Waiting for her. When she saw that his love was true, she professed her love as well.”

“Then what about true love’s kiss? Didn’t it break the curse?”

“No, it didn’t. They went to a sorceress for help, but she couldn’t. Apparently grandpa added something to Lilliandil’s curse to make it immune to true love’s kiss.”

“Figures,” Killian muttered. He was all too familiar with failed true love’s kisses, so his heart went out the heartbroken king.

“So you see,” Henry said, slumping backwards on the settee, “my grandfather is the reason High King Peter is forever denied his happy ending. All he gets is seven days every seven years.”

Killian couldn’t imagine the agony of being parted from his love for seven years at a time. He leaned forward and patted Henry’s knee, “Well, perhaps your family can help the High King. Your mother was meant to bring back happy endings, after all.”

“But isn’t that only in Storybrooke?” Killian shrugged, “Your mother is still your mother; bloody brilliant and amazing. I wouldn’t lose hope just yet.”

Henry grinned, “Now you sound like Grandma Snow.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As if they had conjured her, Snow herself peeked her head in the door. “I hate to interrupt the man talk Emma said you were having, but they’re ready to begin. Henry and Killian, you need to take your places at the front of the chapel.”

They rose from their place by the fire and Killian engulfed Henry in a firm hug. “Thanks, Dad,” Henry told him as he let go.

*******************************************************

Killian couldn’t believe the emotions that made his heart clench time and again as the ceremony took place in the chapel at Cair Paravel. First the sight of his lovely wife being escorted down the aisle on her father’s arm. Her smile and slightly heated glance reminded him of their own wedding day, and he was once again overwhelmed at how truly blessed he was. Then the sight of his children coming down the aisle, eliciting both awwws for their cuteness and laughter at their antics. Elsa ate up the attention, flouncing down the aisle as she tossed lavender petals. Liam, in contrast, treated the front of the chapel as a finish line and the aisle as his racecourse, pumping his fists as he raced down it, the little satin pillow flung far and wide in his right fist. They were both nothing but childish exuberance in this moment, but Killian couldn’t help his mind racing years ahead. Far too soon, he would be the father of the bride, escorting his little girl down the aisle to give her away to another man. Far too soon, he would be sitting beside Emma, clasping her hand in his as the teary-eyed father of the groom.

Finally, there was Henry. The look of pure joy, wonder, and love in his face when the music swelled and Jill came walking towards him, her long chestnut hair falling in waves down her back. Her gown was not Narnian or Telmarine, but a modern one from the land without magic. A white lace gown that Emma had helped her pick out with capped sleeves and a square neckline (Regina had called it a Queen Anne neckline, whatever that meant). He didn’t know much about dresses, but he knew a beautiful young bride when he saw one. And he knew what love looked like in the lass’s almond shaped eyes when she looked at Henry.

Regina, Emma, and Snow all sniffled and dabbed at their eyes with their handkerchiefs throughout the ceremony. He noticed with relief that David also had a wet look about his eyes as his adam’s apple bobbed nervously. Killian was in the same shape. He hadn’t expected to be this emotional.

After the couple exchanged vows, it was time for a Narnian tradition in which family members surrounded the couple to proclaim blessings over them. Emma, Regina, Snow, and David joined the wedding party at the front of the chapel. Queen Susan and King Caspian, Jill’s parents, also joined them. Jill’s aunt, uncles, and cousins were in the wedding party.

When Emma stepped forward to bless them, Killian’s heart swelled. “Jill, Henry, my blessing for you is that you would always make quite the team. That you would not only be each other’s true love, but each other’s best friend.” Her eyes met Killian’s as she stepped away from the couple, her fingers brushing his as he stepped forward to give his blessing.

Killian was normally confident went it came to words. He had rarely been at a loss for them. This, unfortunately, was one of those rare moments. Afterwards, he could never quite remember what he had said. Something about Henry being a son to him even before he and Emma were a couple. He brought up the bloody ties from Henry’s first dance, though what point he was trying to make, he couldn’t say. After making a complete git of himself, he hugged Henry, brushed a kiss to Jill’s temple, and quickly made his way to Emma’s side.

Emma squeezed his hand and whispered in his ear, “That was beautiful Killian.”

He smiled bashfully back at her. Either she thought it was sweet that he was nervous, or she was too blinded by love to recognize his rambling for what it was. Or maybe, by some miracle, he had actually said something decent. Oh well, at least the torture was over.

Once the last family member had given his blessing, a hush descended on the room. A knowing filled every heart before the beast even began his way down the center aisle: Aslan was in the room.

“Aslan!” Queen Lucy proclaimed, her voice sounding suddenly childlike. She lifted her skirts and darted down the aisle to throw her arms around the Lion’s neck, burying her face in his mane. Killian was both surprised and envious of her boldness.

A chuckle rumbled deep in the Lion’s throat as he nuzzled against Queen Lucy, “It is good to be back, my child.”

The Lion turned towards those gathered at the front of the chapel, moving regally forward on his large padded paws. Never had Killian seen a beast so large, and a mixture of fear and awe coursed through him. The feeling grew exponentially when Aslan stopped right in front of him.

“I have a couple to bless, but first there are two here I must address,” Aslan spoke in a booming voice, announcing his words to all in attendance. He then turned to look Killian straight in the eye. Killian found he couldn’t hold the Lion’s gaze, his eyes flickering to his shoes. “Look at me, son,” Aslan said to him, his voice still commanding but softer. Killian raised his eyes to meet the large, gentle brown ones of the Lion. “Heroism born in the fires of redemption is stronger than the steel of that hook of yours,” the Lion continued.

Killian was suddenly so overwhelmed by Aslan’s attentions that he fell to his knees before him and bowed his head. “No longer shall you doubt yourself,” Aslan said, then he released a breath that smelled of sweet flowers and heady resin over Killian. The breath ruffled his hair and washed over his shoulders, and Killian felt a strength and love wash over him like he had never felt before. He understood now why Queen Lucy had thrown her arms around him, but he was too conscience of their audience to do so.

“Arise, Sir Killian,” Aslan commanded, and Killian rose to his feet. He could have sworn the Lion returned his tremulous smile with one of his own. But lions didn’t smile, did they?

Aslan then stopped in front of Emma. He merely gazed into her eyes, that Lion’s smile upon his lips. “What? No hug for your old friend, my child?”

Emma’s eyes filled with tears and she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Aslan? It was you? All those years? It was really you?”

Aslan chuckled, “Yes, my child. You were sent to the land without magic throughout a magical wardrobe. Of course I would watch over you.”

Emma shook her head, tears now streaming down her face. “When I got older, I thought I made you up. An imaginary friend.”

“I’m sorry I had to stop visiting you. It is the rule of things in that realm. I can only appear to children. I have missed you, child.”

Emma dropped to her knees and held a trembling hand out to tentatively stroke the Lion’s mane. “Oh Aslan,” she gasped, then threw her arms around him just as Queen Lucy had done. After a few moments, Emma let go and stood on shaky legs, reaching her hand out to clasp Killian’s.

The Lion then moved on to the married couple. Killian was surprised that he couldn’t hear the words Aslan spoke to them, though he was clearly saying something that moved both Jill and Henry. Tears shone in both their eyes, and Jill fell to her knees to embrace Aslan just as Emma had. His Swan turned to Killian with surprise in her eyes, “So only we could hear what he said to us.”

Killian put his arm around his wife and pulled her close, brushing a kiss to her temple. “Aye, my love, it would seem so.”

Aslan breathed on the newly married couple just as he had breathed on Killian, and before anyone quite realized what was happening, the Lion was gone just as suddenly as he had appeared. The priest raised his arms and shouted, “By the Mane of Aslan, I now pronounce these two husband and wife! Prince Henry, you may kiss the bride.”

Henry didn’t need to be told twice, swooping in and capturing Jill’s lips. She threw her arms around him, one hand still clutching her bouquet, and Henry lifted her up off the ground. When he set her back on her feet, the entire chapel exploded into applause.

*************************************************************

“Killian Jones!” Emma snapped as she stalked towards him, hands on her hips. Several other wedding guests in the ballroom turned in surprise at Emma’s loud voice. “What is this about me turning a star back into a girl?”

“Oh,” Killian hedged nervously, scratching behind his ear. He was also trying not to smile at his irate wife. She was so bloody beautiful when she was yelling at him. He gave her his best smolder, running his tongue over his bottom lip for good measure. That always went a long way in getting him out of the dog house, as David called it. “Heard about that, did you?”

Emma threw up her hands and rolled her eyes, “Yes! Unfortunately Jill has already informed her Uncle that ‘Storybrooke’s Savior’ will be returning his happy ending.”

Killian sauntered towards her, leading with his hips, but his words were sincere, “She has faith in you, love, as do I.”

“I don’t know a thing about breaking a curse that’s turned someone into a freakin’ star!”

Killian wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back soothingly, “So we’ll stay here a while longer so you can figure it out. The kids would love it, and we wouldn’t be in Henry’s hair since The Dawn Treader sails in the morning for their honeymoon cruise. You can do this love, I know you can.”

Emma pulled back and sighed, “You know, one of these days I might just disappoint you.”

He nuzzled his nose with hers, “Never. Impossible.”

Good, she was smiling now. He extended his hand and bowed slightly, “May I have this dance, your highness?”

“Her highness won’t,” Emma scoffed with a roll of her eyes, “but your wife will.”

“One in the same darling, and you have a crown on your head to prove it.”

Emma let him lead her through the waltz, and he watched as her features softened and got a faraway look. “I still can’t believe he was real all those years ago.” Killian merely nodded as she continued her reverie. “The first time I saw him was in kindergarten. On the edge of the playground. Some bullies were teasing me. I looked into his eyes, and suddenly, I was brave. I would wake from a nightmare, and he would be there. He would actually climb up on my bed and I’d curl up against his warm, soft fur and feel so safe as I feel back to sleep.”

The tempo of the waltz changed to a song that Killian was fairly certain came from the land without magic. Emma shifted closer and rested her cheek against his shoulder.

“One time, when I was about eight,” she continued, “he came my very first night in a new foster home. He told me he would be watching over me. Instead of jumping onto the bed, he paced back and forth in front of my bedroom door, growling under his breath. He did that for seven days straight. Until my foster father was arrested for molesting some of his other foster daughters.”

Emma sniffled as she wiped at her cheeks, “I’m sorry I’m being so emotional.”

Killian tipped her chin up so she could look into his eyes, “Don’t apologize. You just found out you weren’t alone all those years.”

Emma nodded her head, wiping her cheeks one last time. She looked over at Jill, who was lost in a world where it was only her and Henry. Emma gestured to her new daughter-in-law with a nod of her head, “Aslan watched over her, too. In the land without magic.”

Killian didn’t respond, choosing to just let that truth sink in for both of them. He turned Emma around the dance floor, his gaze traveling once more to Henry. “It’s an emotional day all around, Emma,” he said in a voice choked with emotion, “more than I thought it would be.”

“Mhmm,” Emma murmured, lifting her fingers to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, “it seems like only yesterday he was ten years old knocking on my door.” “And we have to do this two more times. I don’t know if I can bear it.”

Emma leaned back and searched his face for a moment before telling him with a smile, “We’ll have to do this four more times, you mean.”

Killian shook his head in confusion for a moment, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. “You mean – surely you don’t mean . . . “

Emma tilted her head to the side and smiled at him flirtatiously, “Remember that private picnic you and I had in the middlemist field on our trip to Camelot?”

He arched an eyebrow and gave her his most sinful smile, “How could I forget?”

“Well,” Emma said, wrapping both arms around his neck, “let’s just say I brought home a couple of souvenirs.”

“You’re pregnant?” Killian asked, and he had to hold back a whoop at her nod in reply, her eyes shining. He pulled her closer, overwhelmed at the joy bubbling up inside him. Suddenly, Emma’s words come back to him in sudden clarity. “Wait, did you say a couple of souvenirs? We’ll have to do this four more times?”

Emma nodded in reply, now biting her bottom lip nervously. “I saw Whale already. He thought he heard two heartbeats, so he went ahead and did an ultrasound. It’s official, Killian. It’s twins!” Killian shook his head as if to clear it, and Emma misinterpreted his shock. “Are you okay with this? I mean, I know one newborn is exhausting enough. But two?”

In answer, Killian grabbed Emma by the shoulders and kissed her soundly, “I know we’ll be exhausted,” he teased as he pulled away just enough to rest his forehead on hers, “but, well, just look at the ones we already have.”

Emma followed his nod to Henry who was chatting with a wedding guest, his face glowing as he turned to the bride on his arm. Then to Elsa and Liam who were spinning and laughing on the edge of the dance floor.

“They’ve been worth every headache, every sleepless night,” Killian whispered in her ear, “every second of worry. Have they not?”

“Yes,” she replied, caressing his face tenderly, “totally worth it.”

Killian wants to rest his hand on his wife’s still flat abdomen, to wonder in awe that there are two more little ones being knit together inside of her – products of their true love. But he doesn’t. This is Henry’s day, and he knows if anyone (especially Snow) were to see, the news might spill out. He won’t steal the spotlight from Henry and Jill.

Besides, he thinks as he cups Emma’s face tenderly in his hands, this time is precious. The days and weeks when it’s a special secret, just for the two of them. When he found out about Elsa, he had been terrified that he wouldn’t be a good enough father. When he found out about Liam, he simply felt life was too good, he didn’t deserve any of this. Surely he would lose it all.

But today, Aslan’s words echo in his mind. And for the first time in centuries, Killian Jones simply accepts the blessings that have come his way. Thanks to this unconventional family around him, he had made a choice about what kind of man he wanted to be. He had chosen well.


	4. Picking Fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After picking a fight with Killian, Emma travels through a portal to visit her best friend, Queen Elsa of Arendelle. Killian, naturally, chases after her. Little do they know that Arendelle is on the brink of war. And - as Killian keeps frantically pointing out - Emma is pregnant. Eight months pregnant. With twins.

Killian Jones landed with a hard thud and a grunt. As common as portal jumping had become, you would think someone could figure out how to make it less . . . jarring. He’d have to talk to Jefferson and his seven year old daughter about that. For now, he had a wife to track down. A very irate wife. A very pregnant irate wife. He blinked his eyes at the late afternoon sun shimmering off the water. He wasn’t surprised he landed on an Arendelle beach. As he jumped through the portal, he had been thinking about their last trip here and the wonderful day they had spent on the beach with the Arendelle royals. Speaking of which, Emma had been stubbornly insistent on visiting her best friend. While pregnant. Eight months pregnant. With twins. Bloody hell, was his wife stubborn!

Landing on the beach instead of near the castle wasn’t a surprise. Being tackled to the ground by Arendelle naval officers was. Killian cursed and tried to explain himself even while his face was being ground into the pebbly sand, but to no avail. His hook and cutlass were confiscated, his hands were bound behind his back, and he was now being marched into town surrounded by five royal guards.

“My name is Killian Jones, and I am a personal friend of the Queen,” Killian continued trying to explain, “My family visits here often.”

“Enough with your excuses,” a guard yelled, backhanding Killian across the cheek, “you showed up armed on our beach during a time of war.”

“War!” Killian exclaimed in alarm, thinking frantically of Emma. Though he knew it was foolish and futile, he began once more to struggle with his bonds. “I must speak with Queen Elsa, please! My wife could be in danger!”

The guards ignored him.

“Come on! Surely you’ve heard of the Queen’s friendship with me. Kilian _Hook_ Jones?”

“I have,” grumbled one, “but how do we know you’re the real Killian Jones?”

Killian rolled his eyes, “I would think the appendage you cruelly took from me would be proof enough.”

The naval officer – a lieutenant Killian guessed, based on his epaulets, though every kingdom differed – who arrested him, scoffed, “I’ve seen many a pirate with hooks in my day. You lot seem to lose your limbs quite frequently.”

Killian couldn’t really argue with that. Stereotypes usually held a grain of truth, after all. The guards hauled him through the gates and into the royal courtyard. Killian hoped they would take him before the Queen, but knew that was unlikely. The dungeon was probably his destination. Sure enough, the guards shoved him to the left, away from the front steps of the palace. Out of the corner of his eye, Killian saw a flash of braided red hair. He had to take the chance.

“Princess Anna!” he yelled, shoving his way through the circle of guards. He yelled the princess’s name one last time before he was tackled to the cobblestone.

Anna, thankfully, recognized him instantly and ran to his side. “Killian! You poor thing! How did this happen? Get these ropes off him at once!” Anna scolded the guards, and Killian couldn’t help smirking. Once he was freed, Anna threw her arms around him. Killian threw one more smirk at the sheepish guards – he couldn’t help himself.

Anna then demanded his hook be returned and then railed on the guards some more. “Do you know who this man is? He’s a Prince of Misthaven, and you’ve dragged him here like a criminal!”

Killian _didn’t_ smirk at that. Instead, he blushed and glanced away. Every realm they travelled to, royals insisted on calling him a prince. He supposed, technically, that it was true, but he was still uncomfortable with it.

“Oh my goodness, Killian, what are you doing here? I am _so_ sorry they arrested you. They’re just a little skittish, what with the kingdom of Florin’s entire navy heading this way. And my sister missing. I mean, I am _completely_ freaking out.” Anna was ushering him inside as her words poured out at alarming speed. Killian put a hand to her arm to stop it.

“Wait a minute,” he asked in concern, “you’re on the brink of war and Elsa is _missing_?”

“Well, I wouldn’t use the word _war_ per se, more like tensions mounting between two kingdoms. My sister went to smooth things over, but she still hasn’t returned, and then suddenly we’ve got an entire battalion of ships heading our way. Is that why you’re here? Did Elsa call you and Emma for help or something?” Anna asked the question as she threw open the large double doors to the palace library where they could have more privacy.

“I wish that were it,” Killian grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

“Then why are you here?”

“To bring Emma home. We . . .” Killian trailed off, wincing inwardly at the argument they’d had earlier that day, “disagreed about Emma coming to visit your sister.”

“Why didn’t you want her to come?”

“Because she’s eight months pregnant. With twins.”

“Oh,” Anna said, her eyes widening, “OH! Oh, no!”

“What’s wrong now?” a disgruntled voice asked from the doorway. Killian turned to see Kristoff enter the room, lines of stress creasing his forehead. He stopped suddenly when he saw their visitor. “Killian! What are you doing here?”

“That’s what’s wrong,” Anna explained as Kristoff offered Killian a firm handshake. “Emma came to visit Elsa. And she’s pregnant.”

“With twins,” Killian added. He knew he sounded ridiculous repeating the same old refrain, but Whale had emphasized that twins usually arrived early. Emma could go into labor at any moment. “You haven’t seen her anywhere?”

“Not to our knowledge,” Kristoff answered, “but if she came through that portal thinking of Elsa, there’s no telling where she may have ended up. We haven’t seen or heard from Elsa since she left for Florin a month ago.”

Killian paced, agitated, running his hand through his hair again. “Okay, why don’t you start from the beginning?”

Anna shrugged, “There’s not much to tell. There were rumors of Florin planning an attack on our kingdom, so Elsa went on a diplomatic mission to negotiate peace. Weeks went by with us hearing nothing from her. Then yesterday scouts spotted an entire fleet of Florin ships on the horizon, flying the battle flag.” Anna rung her hands and paced as well. “I’m terrified for my sister, wondering what could have happened to her in Florin. What’s worse, I’m the Crown Princess and am supposed to be ruling in her absence. But I haven’t the slightest idea what to do!”

“You must protect your borders, Anna!” Killian told her firmly, placing hand and hook on her shoulders. “That’s what your navy is trained for.”

Tears sprung to Anna’s eyes, “But those are men’s lives we’re talking about! Elsa always said a ruler should do all she can to avoid war.”

“Those men signed up for this, Anna. They know the cost. Believe me, I know.” Killian paced over to the window and watched the horizon. He guessed the Florin ships were only twelve hours from shore.

“But you rebelled when your King made a wicked choice that could have cost innocent lives!”

“And innocent lives is exactly what you’ll lose if Florin attacks!” Killian retorted, voice rising.

“Don’t you think we know that?” Kristoff said calmly, putting an arm around his wife. “It’s why we sent our own boys away to safety. We know what happens to the royal family when a country is invaded.”

A sob escaped from Anna’s throat as she turned to rest her head on Kristoff’s shoulder. Killian took a shaky breath to calm his nerves. He was looking at this from a military perspective; he knew nothing about leading a country. The weight on Anna must be unbearable. Killian chewed on his lower lip as he thought things through. What they all needed was time. Time to find Elsa and, hopefully, Emma too. Suddenly, it dawned on him.

“Anna, I know what to do! You need to know exactly what happened in Florin, right?”

Anna raised her head to look at Killian, her face mottled red. She simply nodded in the affirmative.

“Send out your fastest ship to approach the Florin fleet and raise the black flag of parley. Then you can meet with a representative from Florin and get to the bottom of everything.”

“No way,” Kristoff argued, “we can’t risk Anna’s safety sending her out there. We don’t know if we can trust Florin not to blow our ship out of the water.”

“Of course we can’t risk Anna. One of the conditions of the parley will be for the representative to come here to the palace. And their navy _will_ honor the parley. There’s a code of war; they won’t break it. Even pirates honor the flag of parley.”

A smile slowly filled Anna’s face. “That’s a great idea!” She ran forward and gave Killian a kiss on the cheek. “You’re a genius!”

Killian smirked at Kristoff who just rolled his eyes. “I would have thought of it eventually,” he muttered.

*********************************************************

The point of the entire plan was to buy them time, which meant Anna had to drag the parley out as long as possible. The hope was that the more time they had, the more likely Queen Elsa would be able to get word to her sister about her whereabouts. ( _And,_ Killian thought to himself, _Emma’s_.) Anna was pulling off that part of the plan brilliantly. When King Humperdink of Florin and his right hand man Count Rugen showed up at the palace for the parley, Anna had begun with a completely thorough tour of the castle, rambling on and on about every room. Who would have thought Anna’s constant chatter would be vital to saving her kingdom?

Now Anna, Kristoff, and Killian were finishing up an eight course meal with Humperdink and Rugen. Finally, when she could stall no longer, Anna was forced to get down to business.

“Princess Anna,” the King of Florin said as he wiped his mouth. The man’s voice dripped with disdain, and it made Killian’s skin crawl. “Let’s finally address the elephant in the room, shall we?”

To her credit, Anna didn’t back down, but lifted her chin imperiously. “Yes, let’s. Beginning with what the hell happened to my sister.”

Humperdink’s face turned red, but he restrained the rage in his voice, “You tell me, princess. There are two possibilities. Either your sister broke faith with my kingdom and fled, or she was kidnapped.”

“If you don’t know what happened to her,” Killian snapped, “why are you amassing a fleet off Arrendelle’s coast?”

Humperdink didn’t even glance Killian’s way. “Perhaps you should be wary, Princess Anna, who you associate with. One of our sources suggest that it was pirates who took off with my sweet Elsa. Perhaps your friend here knows more than he is saying.”

“Yes, Killian is my friend. And my sister’s,” Anna snapped, putting her goblet down with a thud. “We would trust him with our lives. Moreover, he isn’t a pirate. He’s Prince Killian of Misthaven, and his wife, Crown Princess Emma of Misthaven, is missing as well. Probably with my sister.”

Humperdink finally looked at Killian shrewdly. Killian couldn’t help smiling when the King seemed to dismiss him as a possible threat. Good. Killian liked to surprise people.

“Wait,” Kristoff piped up, “back up a second. Did you call Elsa your . . . _sweet_?”

“Yes, that I did,” Humperdink said with an overdramatic sigh, “I confess I have fallen madly in love with her. Elsa agreed to marry me to reconcile our kingdoms.”

“My sister fell in love? With you?” Anna slapped a hand over her mouth, and Killian couldn’t help laughing. Humperdink shot a glare his way, but Killian only stared him down as he took a sip of wine.

“No, your sister did not fall in love with me,” Humperdink continued, quickly masking his scowl. “I assured her she would grow to love me. She finally saw that our marriage would be advantageous. A contract was signed, and messengers were sent to announce the happy engagement. But about a week ago, Elsa went out for a ride and never returned.”

“And that’s why your entire navy is heading for Arrendele’s shores?” Killian bit out. Something wasn’t adding up.

“I confess, I wasn’t thinking clearly. A note was found in Elsa’s handwriting, saying she couldn’t go through with the marriage. But it was written in a shaky hand, as if she had been forced to do it under duress.”

“And you said something about pirates?” Killian snapped, his eyes narrowed.

“There were reports that she had been seen at the docks, being taken aboard a pirate ship. One of the men with her wore clothing of this realm,” Humperdink stood abruptly after that, tossing his linen napkin onto his plate. He shook his finger at each of them, “Either Arendelle has broken trust with Florin or someone in this kingdom has stolen my bride. You return her for an immediate wedding aboard my ship or we attack. You have until dusk tomorrow.”

With that, Humperdink and Rugen stormed out of the palace, slamming the dining hall door with resounding force.

“Well,” Kristoff remarked with a roll of his eyes, “it bought us time. A little of it, anyway.”

Anna slumped back in her chair, shaking her head. “My sister would _never_ agree to marry that pompous windbag.”

“Of course she wouldn’t,” Killian readily agreed, “and if Emma were here, her super power would be on high alert. Everything out of that man’s mouth was a lie.”

“You don’t think he . . .”Anna whispered, leaning across the table towards Killian. Fear filled her eyes, and she swallowed, changing her words at the last minute, “did something to Elsa?”

Killian smiled, glad he could put the fears Anna couldn’t voice to rest. “No, Anna, your sister is alive and well. Not only that, she’s here in Arendale.”

“How do you know?” Anna asked, her eyes wide.

“Because when you love someone, you know,” Killian told her softly, “and right now, I know Emma is nearby. That means Elsa is, too.”

***************************************************

**A Few Hours Earlier**

Emma Jones landed with a hard thud and a grunt. She ran a hand over her swollen abdomen, concerned that travel through the portal had harmed her unborn twins. She felt a series of powerful kicks and laughed. She should have known. They were Joneses, after all.

Only after assuring herself that the babies were fine did Emma realize she was cold. And wet. She struggled to her feet only to find herself up to her calves in snow. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. It had been late summer in Storybrooke. It was _supposed_ to be late summer here, too. Emma turned around in a circle to take in her surroundings. Behind her, perched atop a high summit was a castle made of shimmering ice. The north mountain. Of course. There was always snow here.

Emma trudged towards the bottom of the ice staircase and yelled Elsa’s name. There was no way she was risking those slick steps eight months pregnant. Emma yelled and yelled until she was hoarse. Then she reached out with her magic; no, Elsa wasn’t here. Emma shivered and began making her way down the mountain, inwardly cursing her swollen pregnant ankles. She loved wearing boots and would be wearing them now if not for her stupid cankles. The snow was steadily seeping into her sneakers, and a shard of fear sliced through her. She remembered her fight with Killian before she had marched out of the house, slamming the door behind her. _It’s not all about you, Swan!_ Killian had thundered during their argument. _You have the twins to think about!_ Emma pressed her lips together tightly and willed herself not to cry. If Killian hadn’t been so stubborn, her mind wouldn’t have been such a hormonal mess when she came through the portal. It didn’t mean he had been right. Nope. Not at all.

Emma wasn’t sure how long she had been struggling through the snow, but it felt like forever. She started feeling the same way she had when she had been trapped behind the ice wall. All she longed to do was lie down and sleep. Emma fell to her knees in exhaustion, but the swift kicks of the little lives inside her forced her back to her feet. She tried to take a step, but stumbled. Her feet felt like two blocks of ice. Her eyelids began to droop, but not before she saw a horse with two figures atop it heading her way.

“Elsa!” she croaked out, but her voice wouldn’t cooperate.

“Emma!” Elsa cried racing to her friend’s side. “Westley! Come help me get her on the horse!”

The man Elsa had been addressing came and put a strong, muscular arm around Emma and began to help her to her feet. “She’s heavy with child,” he informed Elsa with concern.

“Emma!” Elsa exclaimed in awe, placing a hand to her friend’s womb.

Emma shivered through lips that were almost blue and attempted to laugh. “A l-lot has ch-changed since my f-family were here a y-year ago.”

Westley managed to get Emma on the horse then swung up behind her. He reached a hand down to pull Elsa up as well, but the Queen shook her head.

“Riding down will be too slow. I’ll have to use my magic.”

Then Elsa closed her eyes and concentrated on the idyllic farm and quaint stone cabin that held so many wonderful memories for her. Light blue smoke enveloped her, the horse, and the two people atop it. When it cleared, the group was in the warmth of the sunny valley, next to the stables on Westley’s farm. They got Emma inside the cabin as quickly as they could and Westley got a roaring fire going, despite the warm summer day. Elsa conjured up a hot chocolate just the way Emma liked it, and Emma reached for it eagerly through the pile of blankets her best friend had piled on top of her.

“Emma,” Elsa asked once her friend had thawed out enough, “what in the world are you doing here? And so close to when your baby is sure to arrive?”

Emma smiled as she felt her babies moving around inside of her, “Babies, plural. I’m having twins.”

“Twins!” Elsa exclaimed, reaching out to touch Emma’s stomach again in awe. “They come early, don’t they? Killian let you come?”

Emma shook her hair out of her face with an air of smugness, “Killian doesn’t have to _let_ me. I’m a grown woman with a mind of my own.”

Emma sighed as she saw Elsa’s eyebrows raise. She looked down quickly and began to pick nervously at a loose thread in the quilt across her lap. Westley came in to stoke the fire, giving Elsa an intimate smile.

“Westley, can you get Emma some water?” Elsa asked, “She doesn’t need to get dehydrated in her condition.”

Westley’s blonde hair fell across his forehead as he nodded, an intensity in the gaze of his blue eyes. “As you wish,” he told Elsa softly, then slipped out of the room.

Emma’s jaw dropped, “Westley, Elsa? Seriously?”

“What?” Elsa asked, a bit defensively.

Emma shook her head and chuckled, “You and I are more kindred spirits than I ever thought. Me with my pirate and you with your farm boy named Westley.”

“What do you mean?”

“Elsa, come on! I have eyes. I see the way you two look at each other. You’re in love with him! Now, spill it!”

A blush filled Elsa’s cheeks, confirming Emma’s suspicions. “I met him a year ago this October,” Elsa began, pulling Emma’s quilt over to cover her own lap as well, “he came to the palace requesting an audience with me. The guards didn’t want to let him in, but Anna happened to see the commotion and got him in to see me. His story broke my heart.”

Elsa gazed in to the fire for a moment before continuing, “Westley’s father died when he was young. His mother remarried when he was older, and had another child. But she died in childbirth. Just a few months later, Westley’s stepfather died too, of a fever. Westley was left to raise his baby sister all on his own. Magdalen was her name.”

“Was?”

Elsa nodded sadly. “That’s why he came to see me. Magdalen was ten and had become very ill. The doctors said she wouldn’t make it to Christmas. Magdalen’s last wish was to celebrate one last Christmas with Westley. She wanted to ice skate, build a snowman, drink hot chocolate, and decorate the tree.”

“So Westley wanted you to use your magic to give Magdalen an early Christmas.”

Elsa nodded, tears filling her eyes. “How could I refuse? So I came out here to their farm. Anna, Kristoff, and their boys came too. We had the most wonderful time. Even though she was very sick, Magdalen was a sweet and joyous child. And Westley loved and cared for her so tenderly. They had so little and Westley was so busy with the farm, I kept visiting. I made sure Magdalen was as comfortable as possible. She passed away in early November. It was so hard on Westley. My heart broke seeing him grieve like that.”

“So you kept coming here. To see him.”

Elsa nodded, a smile creeping onto her face. “I told myself it was to ensure that he wasn’t alone in his grief, but I honestly looked forward to our visits. We would talk and talk for hours, about everything. Westley had chores to do on the farm, but I never wanted to rush our visits, so I would help. Or sit nearby while he worked. I couldn’t admit it to myself at the time, but I was falling in love with him.”

“And he with you,” Emma said softly.

“Yes,” Elsa chuckled, “but I couldn’t see that, either. Every time I came here, we talked, but I still felt like Westley was so formal with me. Whenever I asked him for anything, he would always say, _As you wish_ , like I was ordering him about.”

“When what he really meant was _I love you_ ,” Emma supplied. Elsa looked up, eyes wide with surprise, and Emma chuckled. “There’s a movie.”

Elsa rolled her eyes, “Seriously?”

“Yes, but Killian also says it too. Go on with your story.”

Elsa’s gaze seemed far away as she started talking again, “Then one day, we got into an argument. Looking back, I sort of picked the fight . . . “

_Elsa stomped and scraped her feet on the wooden stoop outside the farmhouse door. It was the middle of March, and the last of the melted snow had turned the land into a soup of mud. She didn’t want to track any of it into Westley’s home. It always amazed her how a bachelor kept his abode so neat and tidy. As usual, Westley regarded her with his intense blue eyes and a soft hello when he opened the door. She used to think Westley was shy, but that wasn’t true at all. He simply didn’t waste time on unnecessary words. Talking to him was easy and natural for Elsa._

_Westley ushered her in with a hand to the small of her back, and his touch sent a warmth all through her as it always did. He helped her remove her cloak and hung it on a hook by the door. Elsa removed her gloves, and Westley asked her, as usual, if she wanted anything._

_“Tea would be nice, thank you,” Elsa requested politely._

_“As you wish,” Westley said with a slight bow of his head._

_Elsa didn’t know why, but his words today were like a slap in the face. Would he ever see her as a friend? Or would she always just be his queen? Elsa stood, suddenly feeling antsy and began to pace the room. She had never thought about it, but did Westley feel like he had no choice but to entertain her? He had never asked for her to visit, and he had never sought her out. Elsa pressed her hands to her heated cheeks as embarrassment washed over her. With Westley it was always_ As you wish. _How could she have been so stupid? He was only humoring her because she was the queen!_

_Elsa suddenly felt ashamed and humiliated. With shaking hands she slipped her hands back into her gloves and retrieved her cloak from the wall. She was reaching for the door when Westley returned with the tea tray._

_“Is something wrong, Elsa?” he asked with concern._

_“No, no,” Elsa answered in a shaky voice, her back still to Westley, “I just – I have to go.” Then she pushed the door open and rushed out._

_Westley followed after her at a fast jog. He grasped her by the elbow and spun her around, “What have I done, your highness? Have I offended you?”_

Your highness _was a dagger to Elsa’s heart. “No, you’ve done nothing. Just, please get my horse.”_

_“As you wish.”_

_With that, the dam of Elsa’s emotions broke, “No!” she shouted after him, marching forward and shoving past him. “I’ll get my own horse.”_

_But Westley wouldn’t let her go so easily. He stepped in her path, blocking her way to the stable. “Look at me, Elsa, in the eye. What is going on?”_

_“Oh, so it’s Elsa now? Not_ your majesty _?”_

_Westley shook his head, “Am I not allowed to call you Elsa? Is that it?” “I don’t know,” Elsa shouted, “Is it?” She knew she wasn’t making sense, but she couldn’t seem to rein in her emotions. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to receive me as your guest. I’m not ordering you to be my friend, you know.”_

_Tears slipped down Elsa’s cheeks, to her great shame. Westley took her chin in his fingers and forced her to look at him. “I’ve never felt that way, Elsa. Ever.”_

_The intensity of his gaze took Elsa’s breath away, and inexplicable fear suddenly gripped her heart. He was looking into her eyes as if he really, truly, saw her. Memories of all the years she spent trying to hide who she really was came flooding back. If she let him in, he wouldn’t like what he saw. She was sure of it. “Let me go, Westley.”_

_His hand fell to his side, but he still pierced her with those blue eyes. “As you wish,” he said softly._

_Elsa felt herself overcome by the emotions she saw on Westley’s face. He stepped forward and leaned towards her, so close she could feel his breath against her cheek. Once again, he whispered, “As you wish.” There was no mistaking now what he meant by that. Her breathing came fast and quick, and before she even knew what she was doing, she closed the remaining distance between them and pressed her lips to his._

_Westley responded immediately, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. He slanted his mouth over hers to deepen the kiss, and Elsa felt her knees go weak. She pulled back, breathing hard, and Westley chased her lips. She stumbled backwards, pushing against his chest a bit._

_“I . . . I have to go.”_

_Elsa quickly saddled her horse and raced away. The last thing she heard Westley say before she galloped away was, “As you wish.”_

“Well, I know a thing or two about picking fights,” Emma said wryly as Elsa finished that part of the story.

The queen narrowed her eyes at Emma, “Is that what happened with you and Killian? Is that why you’re here without him?”

Emma waved off Elsa’s questions. “Later, your story is just getting good. Keep going.”

_Two weeks later, Elsa stood outside the door of the farmhouse, nervously twisting the edge of her cloak in her hands. Westley’s eyes widened as he swung the door open._

_“I wasn’t sure if you would ever come back.”_

_“Am I too late? Have I ruined everything? Or can I come in?”_

_A grin filled Westley’s face as he swung the door open wide, “As you wish. . . **Elsa**.”_

_The door had scarcely closed behind him when Elsa fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. When they parted, panting, Westley was smiling again, his blue eyes sparkling. Elsa reached up and brushed his blonde hair off his forehead. He grasped her gloved hand and kissed her palm. He then gently took the tip of one of the fingers of her glove in his teeth and tugged it off her hand, his gaze never leaving hers._

“Wait just a second,” Emma interrupted, “he took your glove off with his _teeth_?”

Elsa blushed furiously and covered her face with both hands.

Emma laughed, “You and I are _way_ too much alike. So what happened next?”

“Well,” Elsa hedged, “let’s just say we didn’t do much talking that day.”

Emma wiggled her eyebrows at her friend just like she knew Killian would do. Thinking about her husband made her feel a sharp pang of guilt – and a sharp pang of something else. Emma gasped and put a hand to her abdomen.

“Are you alright?” Elsa asked in concern.

Emma took a deep breath and nodded. “Just Braxton hicks – false contraction. I’ve been having them for a few days now. Go on with your story.”

“After that, I came as often as I could get away . . .”

_“I love you, Elsa,” Westley gasped as he lay on top of her._

_“I love you, too,” she told him, pressing a kiss to his lips._

_Westley brushed her hair back from her sweaty forehead and cupped her face with his hand. Elsa’s hands traced lazily down his bare back as his adoring gaze searched her face._

_“Marry me,” Elsa blurted out. Her eyes went wide, and she bit her lip, unsure how he would react._

_He frowned down at her, then rolled away to sit on the edge of the bed. Elsa scooted close, running her fingers through his hair and kissing his bare shoulder. Was he pulling away from her?_

_“I’m supposed to ask that, Elsa,” he said dejectedly. He turned to look at her with sad eyes. “And I’m supposed to get down on one knee and have a beautiful ring for you. A ring worthy of a queen. But I’m just a farm boy, Elsa. A poor farm boy.”_

_Elsa sighed with relief. She placed a hand to his cheek and turned his face to look at her, “You’re perfect, Westley. And I don’t need anything but you.”_

_A smile lit up his face then and he kissed her passionately, easing her back down onto the bed. As he trailed kisses down her neck, Elsa giggled, “Is that a yes?”_

_He pulled back and smiled down at her teasingly. “Well, your highness, if you’re asking me, shouldn’t_ you _have a ring?”_

_Elsa smirked at him, pushing him off her. She got up, pulling the sheets around her, and walked over to her cloak that was hanging on the wall. She reached into the cloak’s pocket, retrieved something, and walked back to Westley who was sitting on the bed, watching her curiously. Elsa knelt in front of him, holding the object out to him with one hand, and clutching the sheet around her with the other._

_“Westley, perfect farm boy, will you marry me?”_

_Westley looked at the item in the palm of Elsa’s hand, speechless. He picked it up reverently, and when he finally spoke, it was in a hoarse whisper, “Your royal signet ring? Elsa! I can’t accept this.”_

_Elsa closed his fingers over the ring, “I’m queen. I can give it to whomever I wish. Now answer the question.”_

_He stood and pulled Elsa to her feet, “Yes, Elsa, I will marry you.”_

_Elsa threw her arms around his neck, letting the sheet fall to the floor._

“Wow, Elsa,” Emma said, clearing her throat, “that’s, uh, not a proposal story you’ll be able to tell your kids.”

Elsa was the reddest Emma had ever seen her, but she also had a dreamy look on her face.

“So, what are you two doing out her on Westley’s farm? Shouldn’t you be back at the palace planning a royal wedding?”

Elsa’s face fell, but before she could answer, Westley came rushing into the cabin from outside. He hastily set a pitcher of water down on the table beside Emma.

“Sorry it took me so long to get the water, my love, but trouble is heading this way.”

Elsa leapt from her spot on the couch beside Emma, “Is it Humperdink?”

Westley nodded grimly, “I believe so. I saw riders cresting the hill from the east. They wore Florin colors.”

Emma rose from the couch as quickly as she could in her condition, “I’m sorry, did you just say Humperdink?”

“Yes, why?” Elsa asked.

“Like I said, there’s a movie. And let me guess, this guy is trying to force you to marry him?” Westley’s jaw dropped, “How did she know that?”

Elsa grasped Emma’s hands in hers, “That’s why we were heading up to the north mountain when we found you. We were going to hide there, cloaked by my magic.”

Emma groaned, “But you had to help me instead.”

Elsa hugged Emma tightly, “It’s okay, Emma. It’s not your fault.”

Westley pulled a sword from over the fireplace mantel and strode to the door. Elsa raced to his side to try and stop him.

“Westley, you can’t! There are too many!”

“But the two of you have magic,” Westley argued, gesturing at the two women, “you can cover me.”

“Don’t count on that,” Emma moaned.

“Why not?” Elsa asked in alarm.

“Because my water just broke.”

*********************************************************

Emma collapsed against Elsa’s side as another contraction shook her, but she had successfully cast the protection spell around the cabin. Elsa had placed one around the perimeter of the farm. Between the two, Florin’s knights should be kept at bay. Unless someone in their ranks had magic. Emma wouldn’t let herself consider that possibility; no sense borrowing trouble. She had more pressing matters to think about.

Elsa helped Emma to the bed, where she curled in on herself until the pain ebbed. She also wouldn’t allow herself to think of Killian, of how badly she wanted him here with her. It was her own stubbornness that led her here after all.

Westley brought blankets, towels, and a basin of hot water. His face was flushed as he muttered an apology and fled the room.

“His mother died in childbirth, remember?” Elsa explained. The queen’s eyes instantly grew wide, “I shouldn’t have brought that up. Emma, I’m sorry.”

Emma sighed as the contraction passed and managed a wobbly laugh, “It’s okay, Elsa. I understand why Westley left the room. And I know it’ll be fine. It’s not the first time I’ve given birth in a cabin on the brink of a battle.”

Elsa nodded and smiled in return. Emma bit her bottom lip and glanced away from her best friend. She was putting on a brave face, but in truth, a sliver of fear was creeping into her heart. Twins were rarely born without some kind of complication, and she was in a realm where childbirth was dangerous. At least in Storybrooke, there was a hospital nearby. She and little Elsa could have been rushed there if anything had happened. Here, that wasn’t an option. Emma drew her knees up as another contraction seized her.

“God, I forgot how much these hurt without an epidural!” she gasped out.

“What’s an epidural?”

“Only the greatest medical invention in the history of mankind,” Emma panted out as the contraction passed. She wondered what this birth meant for the personality of these twins. Because seven year old Elsa definitely had the personality of someone born in the midst of a battle with fire breathing dragons and wizards. And her sweet tempered Liam was of course the one born in the calming environment of the maternity ward with the aid of an epidural.

“Those two contractions were a lot closer together,” Elsa told her, glancing at the grandfather clock ticking in the corner.

Emma nodded, pressing her lips together, “Yes, we should probably get everything ready.”

Elsa helped her remove the leggings underneath her maternity dress and then spread towels on the bed. The queen also propped pillows behind Emma’s back until she was comfortable. The straw they were stuffed with poked Emma in the back, but since it was the least of her discomforts, she ignored it.

Emma labored for another hour before she felt the urge to push. Her cries were mingled with shouts from outside. The ground shook and sparks lit up outside the cabin window.

“What the hell was that?” Emma panted.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Elsa told her. She locked her gaze on Emma’s, “keep your eyes on me, take a deep breath, and push again.”

Emma nodded and did as Elsa asked, pushing as hard as she could. She fell back against the pillows, realizing that she didn’t have the energy she normally would have because of her trek through the freezing snow.

“I can see the baby’s head, Emma!” Elsa said excitedly, “On three, push again. One, two, three, push!”

Emma pushed and screamed as the baby crowned. She pushed for another fifteen minutes, before her first twin entered the world with a wailing cry.

“It’s a girl!” Elsa exclaimed, tears coming down her own cheeks as she gave the squirming bundle to Emma.

“Leia,” Emma whispered as she stroked the wailing baby’s cheek, “Killian and I decided to name her Leia.” The thought of her husband caused a tear to slip down Emma’s cheek.

“She’s beautiful, Emma,” Elsa breathed.

“She is,” Emma gasped, “but you need to get Westley to take her because the next baby is coming. Now!”

Elsa called for Westley, and he was at her side in a moment. He nodded in silence when Elsa explained and took the baby girl gingerly from Emma. “I’ll take her into Magdalen’s old room. There are still some of Magdalen’s baby things in her trunk.”

Elsa moved around to the end of the bed, ready to receive the next baby. Emma felt tears coming faster and she shook her head, “I can’t do it, Elsa. I can’t do it again.”

“Yes, you can, Emma, you have to.”

“I need Killian,” Emma said softly. She squeezed her eyes shut tight as tears pooled at the corners. She had never been the type of woman who needed a man. But with Killian, it was different. Needing him didn’t mean she was weak. He just made everything better. They may not physically share a heart, but they made each other whole. And in this moment, she had never needed him more. Why had she been so foolish to pick a fight and then run?

Elsa came around the bed to hold Emma’s hand, “Emma, look at me.” When Emma turned her way, Elsa smiled and squeezed her hand, “Remember those yellow ribbons Ingrid put on us?”

Emma nodded wordlessly, pressing her lips together as the urge to push surged through her. But she was afraid.

“They bound us together as sisters, but we didn’t need them. You and I are kindred spirits, just like you said. You’re just as much my sister as Anna is. I’m here for you, Emma. You’re strong. You can do this!”

Emma nodded and whispered, “Okay.” She finally succumbed to her body’s urge and pushed with all her might. The second twin was smaller than the first, and it only took pushing for five minutes for him to enter the world.

“Charlie,” Emma breathed as she accepted the second bundle.

“Charlie?” Elsa asked, “That’s such a cute name.”

“Well, Charles, actually, but we’re going to call him Charlie.”

Westley brought Leia back and took Charlie to clean and dress him as well. Her baby girl rooted around until Emma put her to the breast, but she only suckled for a moment before falling asleep. Emma examined every tiny finger and toe until Westley brought Charlie back. He did the same as his sister, and then Emma relaxed against the bed, a baby nestled in each arm. Elsa offered to take at least one to put in Magdalen’s old cradle, but Emma shook her head no. She was exhausted, but she wasn’t letting either baby go for a moment.

Just as Emma felt her eyes fluttering closed, there were shouts and the clanging of metal outside the cabin door. Before Elsa could stop him, Westley raced outside, sword in hand.

“Stay with Emma and the babies!” he ordered before slamming the door shut behind him.

Elsa turned and looked at Emma sheepishly. Emma smiled, “So, he gets to order the queen around, huh?”

Elsa shrugged, “When I let him.”

Westley wasn’t gone long before the door came flying open again.

“Swan!”

Emma didn’t think Killian had ever looked so wonderful to her hungry eyes. He stood in the doorway, panting from battle, his cutlass still in his hand. He was absolutely beautiful.

“I swear to every deity in every realm, Swan, that you are going to be the death of me.”

He only took two steps forward before realizing what he was seeing. His mouth fell open and his cutlass clattered to the floor. Emma narrowed her eyes at him, but she couldn’t help the smile that teased the corner of her mouth.

“Killian Jones, you know full well I have _never_ found that expression funny.”

“Emma,” he breathed as he sank to the floor beside the bed, “they’re here.” He reached his shaking hand out in wonder as he reverently stroked first one downy head and then the other.

Emma gestured to her right arm, “Killian, meet your daughter Leia Snow Jones, and your son, Charles David Jones.”

“I know their eyes are closed,” Elsa spoke up from the corner, “but your daughter has your eyes and your son has Emma’s.”

Killian swallowed hard, and his jaw clenched. Emma knew he was fighting to control his emotions. “Oh, Emma,” he finally muttered, wrapping his arms around all three of them as best he could and burying his face in Emma’s neck. She buried her face in the softness of his hair and she knew there was no need to apologize for the argument they had had.

“Wow!” someone exclaimed from the doorway, “What a rush!” It was Anna, who stood there panting, looking down at the sword in her hand.

Killian rose from the bed, sharing a smile with Emma.

“Didn’t you teach my dad how to sword fight?” Emma asked with a laugh.

“Yeah, I did,” Anna said hefting the sword she held, “but I’ve never actually fought in a battle with a sword. It was exhilarating!”

“Well, I prefer it to be the first _and_ last time,” said Kristoff as he entered the room and enveloped his wife in a fierce hug. “I prefer our children to grow up with a mother, thank you very much.”

“I second that,” Killian quipped, raising an eyebrow at Emma. Okay, so maybe their fight wasn’t _completely_ forgotten, but she could tell from his smile that he was just teasing her.

“Westley!” Elsa cried, almost tackling the next figure who entered the room. Anna and Kristoff’s eyes widened as Elsa kissed him passionately. She turned to her sister with a huge smile on her face. “Ann, Kristoff, I would like you to meet Westley. My fiancé.”

Anna’s mouth hung open and the room was awkwardly quiet for a moment. Elsa had failed to mention when telling her story that her relationship with Westley had been a secret.

“Well,” Kristoff finally said, breaking the silence, “guess it’s good your _other_ fiancé is in the dungeon.”

***************************************************

Emma rose from the rocking chair and deposited a sleeping Leia gently in her cradle. She then turned to a fussing Charlie and moved with him back towards the rocking chair. Killian watched her from the doorway, admiring the way the pale blue dress Elsa had loaned her gave his wife an ethereal look. The sunlight that poured through the chamber window illuminated Emma’s hair, which hung braided across her shoulder. She settled into the rocking chair, singing a soft lullaby to baby Charlie as she began nursing him. He was the only person who ever heard Emma sing; her voice was soft and gentle, like a zephyr at sea. Emma looked up and a wide, contented smile filled her face when she saw him.

“How are you feeling love?” he asked as he entered the room.

Emma sighed as she gently moved the rocking chair with her toe, “Physically, I feel much better today.” They had been in Arendelle for a week now. Partly for the wedding and partly because Emma needed to recover from childbirth. And Emma couldn’t lie, recovering from twins was much tougher. Today was the first day she had felt like herself. Killian had been wonderful, though. All Emma had to do was rest and nurse the twins. Killian did everything else; changing them, bathing them, pacing the floors with them when nothing would soothe them. And to think he ever doubted he could be a good father!

“So physically you’re fine,” Killian repeated raising his eyebrows at her, “and otherwise?”

Emma gave him a knowing smile. He knew her so well. “I miss the children. And I really want to get back to the modern world and disposable diapers.”

Killian chuckled and shook his head teasingly, “What do you care about diapers? I’ve been handling that unpleasant chore.”

“Yes, you have,” Emma said, kissing his cheek as she rose from the rocking chair, “and I love you for it.” She put a sleeping Charlie in his cradle, brushing a fingertip across the dark tuft of hair that covered his head.

“Emma love,” Killian said, nervously scratching behind his ear, “can we talk about . . . the argument we had back in Storybrooke? I still don’t quite understand it. One moment, we were preparing the nursery, and the next we were shouting at each other. What did I say? What did I do?”

Emma dropped her eyes to her hands that she was twisting in front of her. “We were talking about the twins arriving and how different it would be having two newborns. And then you said you were sure of one thing. That the babies already had a wonderful mother.”

Killian’s brow furrowed in confusion, “So you picked a fight with me because I said you’re a wonderful mother? Why would you do that, love?”

Emma paced a few times, then fell with a plop into the rocking chair, slouching backwards. “Because I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, Killian! A million times a day I think that I suck at being a mother. I let them eat too much junk food, I let them watch too much TV, I buy them too much, or I don’t give them enough. Or they talk back to Granny or Elsa gets into a fight at school.” The tears were coming now as Emma listed all her perceived failures. “Not to mention how I held Elsa back with her magic. All because I was afraid.”

Killian smiled tenderly at her as he knelt beside her chair, taking her hand in his, “Emma, everyone struggles with those feelings and doubts. God knows I have. And do you know who has helped me the most with my doubts and fears as a father?”

Emma shook her head, and Killian smiled as if she ought to know.

“Your parents. Think of all the regrets they have about having to give you up. All the fears they struggle with as they raise Neal. But I think all of Storybrooke would award them mother and father of the year if they could. Your father always tells me that if I’m worried about messing up, it shows I must be doing something right. Or I wouldn’t care so much.”

But the best advice came from your mother, Emma. She asked me if I told them I loved them every day. She asked if I showered them with hugs and kisses. When I told her yes, she just smiled and said, _then you’re doing it right_.”

Killian traced the apple of Emma’s cheek, and she leaned into his touch. “I know what you’re thinking, Emma,” he continued, “you’re thinking it can’t be that easy. But I ask you, Emma, what did you and I crave the most growing up as orphans?”

Emma’s eyes grew large as realization dawned. She swallowed hard before answering. “Hugs, kisses, and someone to say _I love you_ ,” she whispered in a watery voice.

Emma allowed him to gather her in his arms, “See? You’re doing it right, love.” Emma sighed against his shoulder, and with the exhalation of breath felt her fears and worries drift away. She knew there would be tough days ahead and plenty of other moments when she would doubt herself. But her mother’s words to Killian could be her anchor in those stormy moments.

Killian pulled away from her, took her hand in his, and helped her to her feet. “Dry your tears, love, and leave the wee ones to the castle nurse. Your best friend needs her maid of honor.”

“She’s got two,” Emma laughed.

Killian shrugged, “One can never have enough friends.”

“Oh really?” Emma asked, her eyebrow arching at her husband.

He scratched sheepishly behind his ear, “Well, that’s something else your mother always says.”

Killian offered Emma his arm as he escorted her from the room.

“I had no idea you gleaned so much wisdom from my mother,” Emma teased.

“Oh, her majesty is a vast wealth of wisdom. Her hope speeches are quite rousing you know,” Killian’s blue eyes sparkled as he regarded Emma, “She actually gave me one right before I chased you here.”

“She did?”

“Aye,” Killian said, a note of mischief in his voice, “she told me we only pick fights with people when we know for sure that they’ll never stop loving us.”

Emma rolled her eyes as he planted a kiss to her cheek.


	5. First Spark of True Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jones family is in the Enchanted Forest for a visit when an unknown villain begins to threaten the kingdom. A sapling from Emma and Killian's first spark of true love at the top of the beanstalk may be the key to stopping the new threat. Emma and Killian aren't sure and don't want to waste precious time on a fool's errand. Their twelve year old daughter Elsa Jones believes it's there with all her heart, and she WILL climb the beanstalk and get the sapling. A dear friend she's had since she was six years old won't let her climb alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my way of giving poor Roland a different ending than where he was left in canon :)

Few can track the figure moving stealthily through the Enchanted Forest. Her soft leather breeches, tunic of tan muslin, and muted green leather vest blend into the trees. Even at the age of twelve, she moves gracefully on silent feet which are clad in moccasins given to her by Tiger Lily. As the daughter of Emma Swan and Captain Hook, she can break in and out of places without anyone ever noticing her presence, can pick a pocket in seconds, can charm her way out of trouble, and on top of all that can handle both a cutlass and a gun with confidence. As the granddaughter of Prince Charming, she can fight with a broadsword just as well. And finally, as the granddaughter of Snow White, she can also slip through the woods without leaving a trail while also hearing even the smallest footfall sneak up behind her. And if she hears you, she can whip out an arrow and shoot it faster than you can blink.

But Roland Locksley is the son of Robin Hood, and though his father died when he was only four, many things are in his blood. And what isn’t in his blood was taught by the band of his deceased father’s Merry Men who raised him. Elsa Jones would probably argue with him, but Roland can out shoot her with a bow. He is, after all, four years her senior. The word most adults use to describe Elsa Jones, even when Roland first met her when she was six and he was ten, is _precocious_. And he agrees. But time is still the best teacher, and Elsa hasn’t had as much of that as Roland has.

Roland slides around the side of a large tree and stays low behind some gorseberry bushes as he follows Elsa from a safe distance. It’s no wonder he thinks of her as a little sister; she’s a year younger than his own sister Robin. He keeps his eyes trained on her jet black hair which is pulled back messily into a ponytail. Elsa, nine times out of ten, is messy. His sister Robin has started putting “stuff” in her hair and make up on her face, but Elsa still seems oblivious to that sort of thing. Robin has also started rolling her eyes whenever she visits the Enchanted Forest, constantly complaining about the lack of cell phone service. She keeps an earbud in her ear as if she’s completely put out at having to visit such a primitive place, only lifting her flashing green eyes to take selfies to post on social media when she gets back to “civilization.” If he sees his sister make that repulsive “fish face” one more time, he might just disown her. What would his father say if he could see her?

Elsa, on the other hand, acts as if new life has been breathed into her lungs every time she visits. She’s fascinated by every corner of Roland’s precious forest. The first time he met her, she out climbed him to the top of his favorite tree, and ever since he’s called her “squirrel.” Somehow, over the years, it got shortened to “nut,” although he uses both. Unlike his sister, Elsa doesn’t use her magic when a sword or a crossbow would do, and their sparing sessions have always been fun. Of course, her over-confidence and boldness have gotten her into trouble on more than one occasion, and whenever she visits, he feels a responsibility to look out for his little squirrel. Hence why he’s following her now.

Elsa suddenly freezes and then straightens. She crosses her arms and scowls in frustration. Without even turning around, she calls out, “Roland Locksley, there’s no point in hiding in the bushes. Just come out already.”

She can hear him coming up behind her, so she whirls around and levels her best glare at him. He’s always acted the big brother, but ever since he turned sixteen, it’s been worse. He seems to think he’s an adult all of a sudden while she’s just a stupid kid. And it irks her to no end. He used to be way more fun.

“I saw you sneak off this morning, Elsa. I knew full well where you were going,” he inclines his head over her shoulder.

The two of them are standing on the crest of a hill. At the bottom is a beautiful sea of prairie grass, and looming in the middle of it, jutting up to the clouds, is the legendary beanstalk. The last of its kind. Elsa takes in the sight of it, her heart thrilling with both excitement and trepidation at the sight. It’s not that it’s taller than she imagined, it’s . . . more narrow, almost spindly. And it twists and snakes up into the sky. Yet she’s read her parents’ story enough times to know that it’s more solid than it appears. She can climb it easily. Completely ignoring Roland, she starts down the narrow path leading to the prairie below.

Roland can’t help but smile as he admires the way she expertly navigates the criss-crossing footpath that hugs the side of the hill. She checks her footing, never letting so much as a pebble tumble over the narrow edge. He follows after her carefully.

“Go back, Roland,” she tosses over her shoulder.

“Not without you.”

Elsa snorts, “If you thought you were talking me out of this, save it. I heard what Tink said. It’s possible the weapon we need is at the top of that beanstalk.”

“And it’s possible there’s nothing there,” Roland retorts, “which is precisely why your parents didn’t waste the trip.”

“No,” Elsa argues, “they thought they were needed to prepare for the fight. They didn’t think they could get away. I can. So I’m going.”

By this time, Elsa has made it to the bottom of the hill and takes off at a short jog towards the beanstalk. She forces herself to slow down. As much as she wants to put distance between herself and Roland, she also needs to conserve her energy for the climb.

“It’s too dangerous, Elsa.”

She sighs as Roland catches up. He isn’t even out of breath, stupid boy. She is so tired of him saying everything is too dangerous. He never used to say that. He used to take her to the tallest tree, the highest cliff, the darkest parts of the forest. Sure, they’d gotten into lots of trouble, but it had been great fun, too! She remembers the first time they had sparred. She had bragged of course, that she could take him down, and he had risen to the challenge. At ten, it had never occurred to her that her father, grandfather, and big brother might be going easy on her. Roland proved that they had been. He had swiped at her legs with his sword and before she had even caught her breath, he was on top of her with the tip of his sword to her chin. For only about two seconds, of course. Two seconds was all it took for her father to haul Roland off her by the scrape of his neck, threatening to bury his hook in the fourteen year old boy’s neck. In the two years since, Roland had continued to give her no quarter whenever they spared. It had made her a stronger fighter.

Roland huffs when he realizes Elsa is ignoring him, “Are you seeing this thing, Elsa? You can’t climb this! You’re just a kid!”

Elsa’s blue eyes are flashing icy fire when she turns on him, “ _No one_ tells me I can’t do something.”

Her ponytail almost slaps him in the face when she whirls back around, and Roland berates himself for using the word _can’t_. Her stubbornness is legendary. So he tries a different tactic, “Isn’t it enchanted? We don’t know where the cuffs are that your parents used the last time.”

“Please,” Elsa scoffs with the eye roll she inherited from her mother. She flexes her hands, “it’s nothing against my magic.”

Roland sends up a quick prayer that she’ll be unsuccessful, but he should have known better. The beanstalk shimmers as Elsa’s magic hits it, and the enchantment dissipates into nothing. Elsa grins and grasps the lowest vine, but before she can hoist herself up, Roland has grabbed her around the waist and flung her over his shoulder.

“I didn’t want to have to do this, Elsa,” he grunts as he turns away from the beanstalk, “but you wouldn’t listen to reason.”

“Let me go!” Elsa screams as she kicks and pounds his back with her fists, but she may as well be kicking the beanstalk behind her to make it fall for all the good it’s doing her. She can practically _feel_ Roland grinning. She is _not_ a baby, despite what he may think, so she refuses to act like one. She sags in his grip, and just as she feels his shoulders relax, she smirks and flicks her hand. Blue smoke envelops them both, and they’re right back at the foot of the beanstalk, Elsa on her own two feet. She laughs when Roland grasps at the air where she used to be flung over his shoulder.

“Go home, Roland,” she says flippantly with another roll of her eyes as she hoists herself onto the beanstalk.

Roland stands at the bottom with his arms crossed, scowling. Once she’s made it up a few feet, he sighs deeply and reaches out to grasp the beanstalk. “Then I’m coming with you.”

Elsa knows there’s no point in arguing with him, so she bites her lip. She’s still climbing the beanstalk; she’s still going to find the sapling that has grown from the first spark of her parents’ true love. And she’s still going to use her magic to transform that sapling into the wand they need to defeat the unseen force threatening the Enchanted Forest. If Roland wants to tag along, so be it.

They’re both silent for a while as they climb, until Roland asks a question that’s been plaguing them all, “So who do you think this new villain is?”

Elsa tries to mask that she’s slightly out of breath from the climb as she answers, “I have no idea. But whoever it is has an army of orcs, and that isn’t good in _any_ story.” Elsa makes the mistake of glancing down at Roland when she answers. Her head spins for a moment when she sees how high up they are. She tilts her face up. Surely they must be nearing the top. But no. All she can see are thick clouds. Elsa takes a deep breath to steady her voice, so when she speaks, she sounds casual. Cocky, even. Call it a family trait. “Why are you still below me, anyway? I’ve never been _that_ much faster than you.”

Roland smiles up at her, “What do you mean, nut? You’ve beat me to the top of many a tree.”

“Not since your last growth spurt.”

He debates with himself, then decides to tell her the truth. Even if it angers her. “I want to be below you. In case you lose your grip. It’s a long way down, squirrel.”

“Please, I won’t be needing your help.”

They fall silent again as they concentrate on climbing. When it happens, it’s so fast Elsa doesn’t even have time to cry out. One minute she’s grasping for the next vine, and the next minutes its disintegrating in her hand. Then she’s losing her balance and falling backwards, but before it’s fully sunk in that she’s falling, a strong arm has grasped her around the waist.

“I’ve got you, nut,” Roland assures her.

He pulls her up and onto a vine so thick it makes a small ledge. Elsa is relieved that Roland’s body is between her and the open air. She buries her face in his chest, grasping his shirt tightly in both fists. She trembles all over as she imagines what could have happened; plummeting through the cold air, the ground rushing swiftly up to meet her. Tears prick at the corner of her eyes, and she’s glad Roland can’t read her thoughts. She’s wishing her Daddy were here right now, his hook holding fast and strong to the beanstalk while he grasps her tightly in his good arm. He would call her his little lass and assure her that he will never, ever let her fall.

Maybe she _is_ a baby after all.

“Okay, nut,” Roland interrupts her thoughts, “You’ve got to turn around, okay?”

She shakes her head against his chest, “I can’t.”

“You can, Elsa, you have to. But I’ve got you, okay?”

She takes a deep breath and turns her body to face the beanstalk. She keeps her eyes shut tight as she clings to the green vines snaking along its surface.

“Good job,” Roland whispers at her back, “now you can climb again.”

“No, Roland, I _can’t._ You were right, this was a stupid idea.”

“What?” Roland says incredulously, a teasing hint to his voice. “My little squirrel? Of course you can climb.”

Elsa bites her lip and takes two slow, steadying breaths. Once her arms stop shaking, she begins to pull herself up. With each pull of her arms and step of her feet, her confidence returns. As if to get her mind off the climb, Roland starts asking her questions.

“What did your parents talk about when they climbed this thing? It’s taking forever.”

Elsa chuckles, “My dad pretty much did all the talking.”

“Figures,” Roland laughs in response. If he’s referring to her father’s constant boastful chatter or her mother’s stand-offish demeanor, she isn’t sure. Both are true, so she doesn’t comment.

“They talked about Henry and about my mom being abandoned as a kid.”

“Wow, she told him that right at first?”

“No, dad guessed. Said mom was an open book to him.”

Roland is almost even with her now. Elsa isn’t sure if it’s because she’s climbing more slowly or because Roland has sped up to be nearer if she loses her footing again. He turns to look at her, “So why are you so sure your parents’ first spark of true love happened at the top of this thing?”

Elsa shrugs. “I’ve read my parents’ love story hundreds of times. And I’ve heard them talk about it hundreds more. My mom hurt her hand, and dad bandaged it for her. I think that’s where the spark happened. Tink agrees with me. Obviously.”

“I’m not doubting you, nut. But what’s the big deal? So he bandaged her hand.”

Elsa blushes slightly, “Well, for one, my mom kept the scarf he used. She still has it; I’ve seen it. And also, well . . . my dad used his teeth to tie the bandage.” They’re both silent for a beat and then Elsa continues, “I didn’t really get that part when I was little. But now . . . I mean I may only be twelve, but I’m not stupid.”

Roland just laughs, “I see. Yeah, I’d say a spark definitely happened.”

Elsa debates with herself whether to ask the next question. But Roland has been one of her best friends forever. Her _very_ best friend, probably. And, he’s four years older. “My dad also asked my mom if she’d ever been in love. She lied and said no. Have . . . have you ever been in love?” Roland is silent so long that Elsa just keeps talking, “I mean, Robin told me about that girl in the village. Are you in love with her?”

“You mean Bridget?” Roland asks. The question is rhetorical, of course, it’s not like there are a string of girls in his life. Bridget had caught his eye with her pretty brown eyes and auburn curls, but when he had stolen a kiss a week ago, he had been disappointed. It was a perfectly fine kiss, and she had kissed him back, it was just . . . “Bridget’s a pretty lass, and nice I suppose.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know,” Roland blows an errant dark curl out of his eyes in frustration. “It’s just . . . I’ve grown up my whole life hearing all these stories about epic true love. Know what I mean?”

Elsa snorts in agreement. “Are you kidding? My dad _died_ for my mom. More than once. She went to hell for him. Literally. That’s a lot to live up to.”

“Exactly!” Roland replies, glad he isn’t crazy. “So Bridget’s a sweet girl, but I guess I’m just not blown away by her.” He pauses, it suddenly dawning on him that he’s having this conversation with a twelve year old girl. The lack of air up here must be messing with his head. “Why are you asking, anyway?”

“Because,” Elsa grumbles, “Robin and Colette turned thirteen and suddenly I can’t relate to them. I’m not ready to go chasing after boys, but that’s all they ever talk about. I don’t want to waste an hour in front of the mirror fixing my hair and my makeup. And there’s all these stories about true love’s kiss. Well, I don’t know about that. I tried it, and I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

“Whoa, wait a second! Who’s been kissing you?” a surge of indignation rises up in Roland out of nowhere. What cur goes around kissing innocent, naïve twelve year old girls? Whoever he is, Roland will murder him, surely Hook will help . . .

“It was just Brandon,” Elsa grumbles.

“Tink’s son?” “Yeah.”

Roland releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Good. Brandon’s just a twelve year old kid, too. “Why’d you kiss him? Do you like him?”

“No, yuck! I was just curious about kissing, and Brandon suggested we practice on each other,” Roland starts chuckling as Elsa continues, “so I figured why not. It was weird. And wet. And now Brandon is acting all dumb around me. Like always trying to show off and making stupid jokes, and . . . what’s so funny?”

“He _likes_ you Elsa. He didn’t want to practice kissing, he wanted to kiss _you_.”

“Seriously?” Elsa groans, sounding just like her mother. “Well, that’s just great. Can’t everyone just stay the same? Why do we all have to grow up?”

“Says the daughter of Captain Hook. Want me to steal you away to Neverland?”

“Ha, ha, very funny Rol-“ Elsa breaks off with a gasp, “We’re here!”

Elsa’s eyes grow large when she takes in the distance between the beanstalk and the stone ledge surrounding the top of it. Roland’s longer legs take in the leap easily, and Elsa’s brush during their climb has her accepting Roland’s outstretched arms without complaint.

“Whoa,” Roland breathes as he takes in the desolate landscape of the giant’s abandoned castle. “This place is . . . creepy.”

“Roland, look,” Elsa breathes. He turns to see Elsa on her knees next to a tiny sapling, only about a foot tall. It pulses and glows with magic. Elsa beams up at him, and he smiles down at her.

“Help me,” she whispers as though the moment is almost too reverent for words, “I don’t want to break it. We need to dig it up, roots and all.”

The sapling has grown up through the broken stone of the courtyard, so Roland first helps Elsa pry them up with the tips of their daggers. Then they gently loosen the topsoil by dragging their daggers through it. Once the ground is soft enough, they use their fingers. Elsa reaches into the satchel at her hip and pulls out a leather pouch that she has filled with moist loam. He marvels at her resourcefulness and cleverness. Yes, definitely precocious. Or an old soul, as Snow calls her. Either way, Elsa isn’t just tough, she’s also smart. No wonder Brandon has a crush on her.

The climb down the beanstalk seems much easier, even though their arms are trembling with fatigue. Similar to the way running down hill is easier than running up. Elsa is also heady with the success of her mission. About halfway down, however, a sound pierces the air that makes her blood run cold. Two voices, screaming her name. Elsa locks gazes with Roland, her eyes wide. She recognizes those voices, and she can tell by the look on Roland’s face that so does he. No discussion is necessary; they both start climbing faster. Sure enough, soon Elsa sees a small head of dark hair, and a little farther down a small head sporting pigtails of golden curls. Her five year old siblings have followed her up the beanstalk.

Roland reaches Charlie first. He reaches down and wraps his arm around Charlie’s waist just as he had done earlier for Elsa. Charlie looks into Roland’s face with large, terrified eyes that brim with tears.

“Okay, Charlie,” Roland says gently, “I’ve got you. But you need to let go of that vine and wrap both your arms and legs around me. That’s the only way I can climb down and carry you at the same time.”

Charlie squeezes his light green eyes shut tightly and shakes his head, “Uh-uh. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, Charlie,” Roland tells him firmly, “trust me.”

“Trust him, Charlie,” Elsa calls from across the beanstalk, “he held onto me earlier. He won’t let you go, either.”

Charlie nods once, takes a deep breath, then lets go of the vine he’s clinging to. He climbs Roland’s torso like a little monkey and wraps his skinny arms around his neck and his skinny legs around Roland’s waist.

“I’ve got him!” Roland calls across to her, “Get Leia.”

Elsa eases down towards her sister. Leia looks up at her with tears streaming down her face. Her bright blue eyes are as big as saucers, and her arms are trembling.

“I can’t hold on, Elsa!” she cries. “I’m slipping!”

Elsa climbs down a little farther, but there’s a large gap between the vine she’s clinging to and the one her sister is hanging from. Elsa is forced to let go and reach for her sister with one arm. She glances over towards Roland.

“You can do this, nut!” he calls, winking at her to lighten the moment, “Use your magic to help you!”

Elsa nods and reaches as far as she can towards her little sister. She reaches out with her magic, but she mentally hits a wall. She frowns as she looks down at her sister’s frantic expression. Elsa remembers her lessons with Regina, how magic is about emotion. The emotion she’s mentally banging up against is fear. Elsa takes a deep breath, letting go of her fear and letting hope fill her. But once again, she hits that wall of fear.

“Elsa!” Leia screams as her fingers begin to slip. And that’s when it dawns on Elsa. It isn’t her fear she’s hitting, it’s Leia’s.

“Leia!” Elsa calls down to her, infusing her voice with calm. “You have to trust me. Let go of the vine you’re holding.”

Leia shakes her head in a panic, “I can’t!”

“Yes, you can! We’re sisters, Leia! That’s a magic all its own, remember?”

“Okay,” Leia whispers so quietly Elsa almost doesn’t hear her. Elsa reaches out with her magic, and she can feel it the second Leia lets go of the vine. She imagines Leia floating. Elsa knows that she, unlike Roland, won’t have the strength to carry her sister down the beanstalk. So instead, she floats her sister down through the clouds, down to the ground . . . and into their mother’s outstretched arms.

“Crap!” Elsa mutters.

“What?” Roland calls out to her.

“My parents,” is all Elsa has the time to mutter when she, Roland, and Charlie are all enveloped in white smoke. Both her and Roland’s feet give out beneath them when they touch the ground at the bottom of the beanstalk, and Emma scoops up Charlie before Roland’s knees can fully give way.

Elsa watches her mother rock Charlie back and forth with trembling hands. Her father falls to his knees beside them, holding them tight as best he can with his hooked arm as he holds Leia tight with his other one. Then Killian is showering his wife, son, and daughter with kisses as tears fill his eyes. Elsa bites her lip nervously as she watches them. She’s _so_ dead.

“Elsa!” her mother thunders once she gets to her feet, “How many times do I have to tell you to think before you do these things? Your brother and sister copy everything you do. I can’t begin to tell you how crazy this was! Charlie and Leia could have been killed!”

“I didn’t know they followed me!” Elsa shouts back.

“But what about you!” her father shouts. “It was dangerous, Elsa!” He turns with thunderous eyes towards Roland, who is so intimidated, he takes a step back. “And you? How dare you take my little girl up that beanstalk!”

“I tried to stop her, Hook, I swear!”

“He’s telling the truth, Daddy. He only followed me up there to keep me safe. And I’m glad he did. I almost fell.” Killian and Emma both turn wide eyes towards her. “He saved my life.”

Then her parents shock her as they both hold her close at the same time. Her father cradles her head with his hand, and she can feel her mother’s tears on her cheek.

“Elsa,” her mother mutters, “I don’t know whether to strangle you or kiss you.”

“How many heart attacks can you give an old man, little lass?” her father adds as he pulls back to cup her cheek. He plants a kiss on her forehead, and Elsa knows that their anger is forgotten. For now.

“And look what I found,” she adds, pulling her satchel open and showing them the contents of the leather pouch.

“Is that – “her mother begins.

“It was really there, “her father breathes.

Her parents lock gazes over the top of her satchel, their smiles tender and full of love. “Yes,” Elsa continues happily, “just where Tink thought it would be.”

Killian winks at Emma and gives her a saucy grin, “So I _did_ have an effect on you up there, huh, Swan?”

Emma rolls her eyes and smacks Killian in the chest, “Of course you had an effect on me. You tied the bandage with your _teeth_ , for gods’ sake!”

Killian arches an eyebrow and lowers his head in that flirty way he knows she loves, “Well, love, I only have the one hand you know.”

“Please, Killian Jones, you had ulterior motives and we both know it.”

Emma takes the satchel from her daughter with one hand and hauls her husband in for a kiss with the other. A couple of “ewwws” sound from behind them and Emma and Killian chuckle as they turn towards their five year olds.

“Well,” Killian quips, “sounds like they’re feeling better.”

Emma turns to Elsa and throws an arm around her while shouldering the satchel and its precious cargo, “Whadya say we go back to the castle and make ourselves a wand, kid?”

“Sounds great mom!”

“And _then_ we’ll talk about your punishment.”

“Mo – om,” Elsa groans, not that she’s surprised.

Roland laughs at Elsa and her mother, relief flooding through him that everything turned out all right in the end. He takes a step forward, but then hesitates and turns back to Elsa’s father.

“Ho – I mean Kil – I mean, Mr. Jones,” Roland shuffles his feet as the man levels a steely glare at him. “I want you to know I really did try and stop Elsa. But you know how stubborn she is. And of course I followed her up there because, well – I’d do anything to keep her safe. Even give my own life. I –“

“Are you telling me you would die for her?”

“Well, yeah, that’s what I mean, I . . .” Roland trails off as he takes in Hook’s gaze. He doesn’t know what he’s said wrong, but the man looks ready to murder him. “Um, because Elsa’s like a little sister to me.”

“A little sister, huh?”

“Yeah,” Roland says, thoroughly confused. He eyes the man’s hook and shuffles another itch or so away from him.

Kilian raises his hook to his chin and rubs it along his stubble, arching a brow at Roland. Little Charlie tugs on Roland’s hand.

“Come on, Roly,” the little boy giggles, “put me on your shoulders!”

Glad for the distraction, Roland bends and hoists the little boy up and over his head. Charlie kicks his heels as if he were on a horse and yells,”Gidyap!” Roland races ahead where Leia is skipping around Elsa, glad to put distance between himself and Captain Hook.

Emma hangs back from the children cocking her head curiously at her husband. “What’s up with you?” She follows the line of her husband’s scowl straight to Roland and rolls her eyes, “He meant well, Killian. And in the end, I’m glad he was there. He saved Elsa’s life. And Charlie’s.”

“He said he’d die for her, Emma.”

A laugh bubbles up out of Emma’s throat as she takes in her husband’s clenched jaw, “Get a grip, babe! Elsa’s only twelve. And Roland is like a big brother to her.”

“I know. She’s twelve. And he’s sixteen,” he says darkly, watching the young man with narrowed eyes. Elsa giggles and jumps on Roland’s back, wrapping her long, scrawny legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. “And what the bloody hell is _that_?”

“It’s Elsa jumping on Roland’s back. Just like she’s done since she was six.”

Killian scowls some more, “It was cuter when he was only ten.”

Emma rubs his shoulder and shakes her head, “Elsa isn’t into boys yet, Killian, I promise. She and I have talked. And Roland and Elsa are like brother and sister. They climb trees together, for heaven’s sake!”

“And beanstalks,” Killian mutters, “and remember the time he had her on her back when they were sword fighting?”

Emma rolls her eyes, “How could I forget? You almost severed the poor boy’s carotid artery!”

“He had my baby girl on the ground with a sword to her throat!”

“She was ten! They were sparing!”

“Laugh at me all you want, Swan, but it’s trouble, I tell you.”

Emma throws her arm around Killian’s waist and draws in close as they walk across the meadow, “I know you see similarities with our love story Killian, but Elsa will have one of her own. When she’s old enough. And she _isn’t._ Not yet. So relax and enjoy the rest of her girlhood, okay? She’s got a good head on her shoulders. All you have to do is look around at the other girls her age in Storybrooke to see that. We’re lucky. Seriously.”

Killian sighs, sagging a bit in Emma’s arms. “I guess you’re right.”

He smiles at his wife and glances back at the beanstalk stretching towards the heavens. “They just better not have talked about falling in love while they were climbing that thing.”

Emma just laughs. “I seriously doubt it, Jones.”


	6. Normal Interruptus: The Land Without Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian and Emma have moved their family to the Land Without Magic to provide their four brilliant children with a better education. Elsa Jones, their oldest daughter, isn't happy about the move, especially when she ends up being tortured by the snobbiest kids imaginable at her new private school. She's paired with three girls she detests for a school project on the same weekend the Jones family is hosting a huge family reunion. What happens when Elsa's classmates collide with her family full of fairy tale characters? Especially when a villain crashes the party?
> 
> Part of my series Journeying the Realms about the Jones family and their travels. This one is a bit different, inspired by the Gilmore Girls episode "Concert Interruptus." Set in the universe of The Last Battle, but can be read alone.

Most teenagers raised in an incredibly small town (and by incredibly small, meaning half the town is related) would be thrilled beyond belief to leave it. Elsa Jones, however, was not most teenagers. She never asked to leave Storybrooke, and now that she was driving – no, being dragged – away from it, her heart was cracking in two. She was practically sitting on the edge of the open window of her mother’s yellow bug, watching the “Welcome to Storybrooke” sign get smaller and smaller. Her mother reached over and yanked on her leg.

“Either get in the car, Elsa Elizabeth Jones, or I’ll magic your butt back in your seat,” Emma Swan Jones commanded her daughter in tones that were half teasing, half frustrated.

Elsa plopped down into the passenger seat with a loud sigh and an eye roll.

“Spare me the melodrama, please,” her mother sighed in return. “You brood as well as your father, and I’m not putting up with it through three states.”

Elsa flashed her mother an exaggerated fake smile and glanced towards the back seat where her nine year old little sister Leia was engrossed in her iPad. She was probably hacking into the Pentagon.

“Why did we have to divide up boy/girl?” Elsa whined. She knew she sounded immature, but at the moment, she didn’t care. “I love sailing the Jolly, too.”

Her mother must have decided to try positive reinforcement, because instead of an eye roll or a glare followed by a stern warning, Emma smiled at both of her daughters as she donned her sunglasses. “Because I wanted some girl time.”

Emma glanced in the rear view mirror at Leia, and the girl actually emerged from her virtual world to return it. “Yeah,” Leia said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with one finger, “we should get milkshakes with lunch.”

Emma beamed back at her younger daughter, “Done.”

Leia was the spitting image of her mother, except for her bright blue eyes, which were her father’s. Her twin brother Charlie, however, was the opposite. Killian Jones all the way except for his glassy green eyes. Elsa tapped her chin as she looked from her mother to her sister and back again. The only thing Elsa got from her mother was her dimpled chin; everything else was her father’s, including his slightly elf-shaped ears. She was proud to take after her father, except for those embarrassing ears which she was constantly trying to hide behind her thick, dark hair. Charlie had lucked out; he didn’t have his dad’s ears. Then there was Liam, Elsa’s twelve year old brother, who looked like their grandfather, Prince Charming. Acted like him, too, truth be told. Liam was just so _good_ that it was an irritation to his siblings.

In the back seat, Leia pulled her knees up to her chest and balanced her iPad against her thighs. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail as it usually was, and she chewed on her bottom lip as she concentrated on whatever it is she was working on.

“What are you doing anyway?” Elsa asked, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice, “You better not be hacking into something again.”

“For your information, I’m creating a virtual world,” her little sister responded and then stuck out her tongue. “What I’m creating could revolutionize gaming. I could be a millionaire by the time I’m in high school.”

“And don’t give Leia a hard time about the hacking,” their mother scolded Elsa mildly, “if not for her your father wouldn’t have been able to get this job. She got him a birth certificate, citizenship papers, the whole nine yards. If not for her, you father wouldn’t exist. According to the government, anyway.”

“Oh, and I’m supposed to thank her for that?” Elsa muttered, drawing her own knees to her chest.

Emma sighed again and removed her sunglasses to look at her oldest child, “We’ve been over this, Elsa. Your father and I want you kids to have the best chance at a good future. You can’t get that in Storybrooke.”

“I could,” Elsa grumbled under her breath, turning to look out the window and essentially breaking off the conversation.

“Mom’s told you a thousand times, Elsa,” Leia spoke up, “The Land Without Magic is a misnomer. You’ll still have your magic.”

Elsa gave her sister a withering glare as she snapped her fingers to produce a fire ball. She then snapped them again to produce a ball of light, then finally a ball of ice. “Yeah, got it.”

“But,” her mother said cautiously, “we gotta be careful about that, kid. You know what –“

“Mom,” Elsa cut her off, “I know. I have to be careful using my magic in a world that doesn’t believe.”

“So basically, you were listening, you heard all of our reasons, but you just don’t care.”

“Bingo.”

Emma shot Elsa a warning look, then shoved her sunglasses back on and flipped on the radio. “Let’s listen to music, how about that?”

***********************************************************

Elsa frowned at her reflection in the full length mirror affixed to her bathroom door. She pulled on the blue plaid skirt, then shook her head and readjusted the waist band. It was the blouse, that’s what was wrong. It made her proportions look all wrong tucked in. But according to the very strict dress code at Chilton Preparatory Academy, the blouse _had_ to be tucked in. Elsa then ran her hands through her thick black hair, scowling at her reflection. It always seemed to be a mess, just like her father’s. She thought about putting it up in a ponytail, but decided against it. Let the kids at Chilton get to know her before she showed off her pointy elf ears.

In the past, Elsa had always been excited about the first day of school. She may not be a genius like her siblings, but she was still pretty damn smart. She had even skipped kindergarten, which was why she was starting her senior year as a sixteen year old. Yes, starting a brand new school her senior year. Thanks a lot, mom and dad. No wonder she was nervous for the first time in her life on the first day of school.

She was also nervous because Chilton was a pretty intense, prestigious school that was difficult to get into. She had a pretty good feeling they had only taken her because of her siblings. Her parents had been set on all of them attending the same school just like in Storybrooke.

All of the Jones children were precocious from birth, stubbornly independent, and extremely intelligent. Whether that was from genetics, life experiences (not many kids are born during a battle, fight witches at age five, or master sword fighting by age ten), or the influence of magic no one could be sure. Nonetheless, Elsa felt as if she got all of the magic while her siblings got everything else. Liam was a mathematics whiz, able to navigate the stars as well as his father by age eight and doing calculus by age ten. Charlie was a musical genius who could play piano concertos by Bach as a four year old. At nine, he now played four instruments and could write his own music. He could also sing pretty well, although their father said not to put too much stock into that until he got older and his voice changed. And then there was Leia, a computer genius who would probably either be filthy rich or recruited by the CIA before she even got out of high school. And while Elsa was smart (she read the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy at the age of eight, after all), most of her skill sets were more useful in the Enchanted Forest than in the Land Without Magic. Or at least in Storybrooke. In this “normal” college town, who cared that she could shoot a bow and arrow as well as Snow White, swordfight as well as Prince Charming, sail a pirate ship as well as Captain Hook, or wield magic as well as Emma Swan? In short – nobody. Nobody would care. That was exactly what she was here – a big, fat nobody. In Storybrooke, she was the girl who defeated the darkness at the age of five. Here, in Orchard Hills Connecticut, she was nothing.

She bit her lip at her reflection, because – damn it! – she was NOT going to cry! Then she took a deep breath, grabbed her book bag, and headed downstairs. At the foot of the steps, she couldn’t help smiling at the sight that met her eyes. Her siblings were setting the table while her father spun her mother around the kitchen. He sang the words to her, his eyes never leaving hers:

_Every little thing she does is magic_

_Everything she do just turns me on_

_Even though my life before was tragic_

_Still my love for her goes on_

For Elsa’s entire life, her father made breakfast every morning (for some reason, they had pancakes a _lot_ ), and he always did it to music. This song by The Police was one of his favorites, and it was easy to understand why. As Elsa’s feet left the bottom step, her father dipped her mother and kissed her soundly. When they were little, she and her siblings would yell “ewww” and cover their eyes. Now they all just glanced away with a slight shake of their heads. They were sort of used to it by now.

“Chocolate chip pancakes,” Elsa said as she approached the table.

“Of course!” her father said, removing the kitchen towel from his shoulder and tossing it on the kitchen counter, “We always have those on special occasions, especially the first day of school.”

“Nice of you to help us set the table, sis,” Liam quipped in that slightly self-righteous way of his.

“Give your sister a break,” Emma scolded, “it’s her first day of her senior year. She wants to look nice.”

“How much time could that take?” Charlie asked as he set out glasses of orange juice. “We all have to wear uniforms.”

“I was thinking it shouldn’t take much time because she’s a natural beauty,” Killian Jones said gently, bending to brush a kiss across Elsa’s cheek. He winked at her and smiled, and Elsa felt silly, but it made her feel so much better. She was a daddy’s girl and always would be.

They all gathered around the table and began to eat, conversation flowing. Elsa, however, was pretty silent. She watched her siblings scarf down pancakes and fruit and wondered how they could all seem so at ease. She wasn’t the only one starting a new school. Even her father seemed calm and happy, even though today was his first day on the job as a history professor at the small, private university in town. Of course, this had been his dream since he started taking college courses on-line. Originally, he was going to teach on-line, too, but that had changed when Emma and Killian Jones started to think about their children’s futures. Opportunities were limited in Storybrooke, and they wanted their children to reach their full potential. Her father had already switched to his prosthetic hand instead of his hook; that was going to take some getting used to.

Elsa watched her parents as Killian raised Emma’s hand to his lips and kissed it. Another oddity they had discovered about Storybrooke was that the adults in town were not aging normally. Aunt Regina theorized it was because of all the curses they had been under which froze time. And of course, all the years in Neverland could have long term effects on Captain Hook. Whatever the reason, her parents didn’t look much older than they did in their wedding photos. A line or crease here or there that appeared when they smiled, or a gray hair or two, and that was all. No one would believe they were in their late forties. Well, physically. Chronologically, her father was over 300. Her grandparents also looked like they were in their early thirties when in actuality they should have been in their 70s. It suddenly occurred to Elsa that graduation at Chilton could be quite interesting.

********************************************************

Elsa spun the dial on her locker, resisting the urge to bang her forehead against the gray metal. She opened it and foisted the two enormous binders her literature professor had given her into the open locker. He had very haughtily informed her that her _public school_ education had been insufficient preparation for his course. She wanted to smugly tell him that her previous three high school literature teachers had been Gandalf the Grey, Professor Digory Kirk, and Anne Shirley. But, of course, she couldn’t. So the irony was that Elsa Jones, daughter of Captain Hook, granddaughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, born and raised in a town filled with literary characters, was forced to do hours of remedial work for her English Lit class.

“Hey,” a voice sounded to her right. Elsa slammed her locker shut to see a Justin Bieber wanna-be lounging against the row of lockers.

“Uh, hi,” Elsa answered distractedly as she shoved two text books into her book bag.

“So listen,” the guy continued, “just wanted to introduce myself. A girl as hot as you deserves to have the pleasure of meeting Chilton’s famous Tristan Dugray.”

Elsa gave the guy her most epic Jones eyebrow arch followed by her best Emma Swan withering glare.

The guy – _Tristan_ , ugh, could he be any more pretentious? – was doing that infuriating head bob that cocky guys seemed to think was hot. He then flashed her a flirtatious grin and said, “Here’s the part where you give me _your_ name.”

“Elsa Jones. And I have to get to class.”

She turned quickly and headed towards her history class, but the guy just continuing walking next to her, matching her speed.

“Elsa, huh? Well, I heard you’re new to town, so if you’d like to go out sometime, I can show you around.”

Elsa barked a laugh, “No way in Hades.”

Tristan seemed genuinely perplexed at her lack of interest. “Why not?”

Elsa stopped walking, turned towards him, and released an irritated sigh, “Listen, I’m pretty good at reading people; it’s a family trait. Some girls might fall for your bad boy with a heart of gold routine, but I won’t. Because that’s all it is – a routine. You’re completely self-absorbed, and frankly I don’t feel like competing with your ego.”

Tristan’s eyes narrowed to angry slits, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a complete bitch?”

Elsa’s eyes brightened and she smiled widely, “Why thank you, I get that a lot, actually!”

Elsa couldn’t help smirking at the look on Tristan’s face. Her father always said that he didn’t worry about her falling for some cad because she dealt with arrogant jerks the same way her mother did: with cold indifference mixed with bored passive-aggression. Of course, then her mother had quipped that the combination had worked on him, and then her parents had started kissing like two teenagers. She seriously didn’t think anyone else her age had to deal with horny _parents_.

Having properly put said jerk in his place, Elsa turned and entered her history classroom. She muttered curses under her breath towards Tristan when she saw that the only seats left were on the front row. She sighed in resignation as she slid into a seat, and then groaned when Tristan slid into the one beside her. He leaned over and whispered in her ear.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily, Ice Princess.”

A dark headed brunette sitting behind Tristan giggled, “That’s perfect! You know, ‘cuz her name’s Elsa?”

A blonde behind her laughed too, “I know, Madeline, right?” The blonde leaned as far as she could into the aisle towards Elsa and started singing, “Let it go, let it go! Can’t hold it back anymore! Let it go! Let it go!” Then both girls dissolved into giggles.

Elsa squeezed her hands into fists, feeling her icy magic tingling at her finger tips. _I’ll show you Ice Princess!_ She hadn’t been this tempted to use her magic against a bully since Leroy’s kid bad-mouthed her father back in kindergarten. Of course, no one in Storybrooke had ever teased her about her name. Nobody in Storybrooke made Disney movie jokes. I mean, one of the seven dwarves’ kids wasn’t about to sing “Under the Sea” to Ariel’s kid when she could turn right back around and start singing “Hi-ho, Hi-ho, It’s Off to Work We Go.”

Elsa took a deep breath and released it, then turned to her laughing classmates with a cocky smile, an arched eyebrow, and an imperially tilted chin that would make her grandmother proud. “That’s Ice _Queen_ , actually.”

Madeline and the blonde, whose name was Louise if Elsa remembered correctly, gave her open-mouthed shocked expressions and then rolled their eyes. Suddenly, the girl sitting behind Elsa leaned forward and hissed in her ear.

“If you think you’re going to waltz in her and take away everything that I have worked my ass off for, you’ve got a rude awakening coming.” The girl paused a moment then added, “The name’s Paris Gellar, and don’t you dare forget it.”

Bloody hell! Elsa had apparently stumbled into a world that was a cross between _Heathers_ and _Mean Girls_. Maybe she could ask Jefferson to mail her one of his hats. Any realm would better than this!

*************************************************************

The chatter at the Jones family dinner table floated around Elsa as she mutilated the baked potato on her plate with her fork. They had been in Orchard Hills for a month now, and she hated it just as much as she had when they first arrived.

Everyone else in her family, however, were adjusting just fine. Her mother loved her job as detective at the police station, and her father was in his element teaching history. While Elsa was tortured every moment of every day by her classmates at Chilton, her siblings had all made friends seemingly overnight. She struggled with mounds of homework while, as usual, everything seemed to come easily to the other three Jones children. The worst part of it all was that it didn’t seem like any one in her family cared that she was miserable.

Elsa took a deep breath, straightened in her chair, and dropped her fork with a loud clatter. “I’m moving back to Storybrooke,” she announced.

The table went silent instantly and her parents exchanged one of those eerie looks they did when they were apparently reading each other’s minds. Emma squeezed her husband’s hand and then turned to her daughter.

“What do you mean you’re moving back to Storybrooke?”

Elsa rolled her eyes, “It means exactly that. I’m moving back. I’ll live in the loft with Grandma and Grandpa or crash with Robin, Aunt Regina, and Aunt Zelena. They have tons of room.”

Her father’s jaw clenched and his eyes were tender when he spoke, “Are you that unhappy here, little love?”

She knew now she had hurt her father’s feelings. He hadn’t called her “little love” since she was thirteen. But she couldn’t worry about that right now, she had to tell the truth. “Yes, Daddy! I hate it here! I have friends back in Storybrooke, but here –“

Elsa broke off. She didn’t want to admit that here she was lonely. But that was the truth. She missed Robin and Colette who had been her best friend’s since birth. She missed her Uncle Neal, and even Tinkerbell’s son Brandon, even though his perpetual crush on her was annoying. Annoying until he wasn’t around anymore. She kept in touch with all of them on social media and facetime, but it just wasn’t the same. She looked around to see her entire family staring at her, and for some reason, it made the tears come. She had held them back for so long, trying to put on a brave face, that once they started they were a torrent that she couldn’t control.

“Not that any of you care!” she shouted and then ran from the table. She felt like a Disney movie cliché, flinging herself across the bed as she sobbed.

She felt a hand begin to rub her back and knew from the slender fingers and smooth skin that it was her mother’s hand. Emma said nothing as Elsa sobbed on and on, until her tears were spent. Elsa rolled over, clutching a pillow to her chest, and regarded her mother with red-rimmed eyes. Emma smiled patiently, brushing a strand of hair from Elsa’s forehead.

“This is about more than missing Storybrooke, isn’t it?” she finally said to her daughter.

Elsa scrunched up her forehead, “What do you mean?”

Emma just gave her a sad, knowing smile, “Be honest, Elsa, you’ve been unhappy for quite some time. Even before we left Storybrooke.”

Elsa scooted up to lean against the headboard. She kept her head down, tracing the embroidery on the pillow in her lap.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” Emma encouraged, rubbing Elsa’s knee, “You’ve always had a spark about you that I adore. But the past couple of years, you’ve lost a little of that. Why?”

Elsa finally looked into her mother’s face through half-shuttered eyelids, “Promise you won’t be mad?”

Emma solemnly crossed her chest with her pointer finger and then gave her daughter a slight nod. Elsa sighed and continued tracing the pattern on the pillow.

“A new prophecy was given in the Enchanted Forest, mom. It states that a person of noble blood will come from the Land Without Magic to restore the kingdom of Misthaven to its former glory. A person born in the Land Without Magic but with an Enchanted Forest lineage.” She squirmed a bit as she relayed the next bit of information, “Roland thinks the prophesied ruler is me. He says lots of people agree with him and that I have an entire army ready to crown me Queen.” Elsa saw something flash across her mother’s eyes and knew what she was thinking, “Henry agrees with him, mom.”

Emma nodded, “Elsa, honey, are you sure this is really about the prophesy,” she hesitated a moment, then took Elsa’s hand, “or about the young man who told you about it?”

Elsa pulled away from her mother’s grasp and covered her face with both hands, “Mom,” she groaned, “Roland is . . . my friend. I’ve known him since I was six! He’s . . . he’s . . .”

“Also the boy you’ve fallen in love with,” her mother supplied gently.

Elsa’s face flamed as she attempted to avoid her mother’s gaze, “It’s not like that, Mom! Roland is . . . he’s twenty, Mom!”

Her mother smiled a knowing smile, “Mmhm, like mother like daughter. Although I’m glad you don’t like them as old as I apparently do.”

“Mom!”

Emma chuckled, “Well, think about it, the youngest man I was ever involved with was technically old enough to be my father. And all the others had a few hundred years on me at least.”

Elsa snorted, “Try telling that to dad. Remember the time he almost slit Roland’s throat when all we were doing was sparing with our swords?”

“Well, I agree with your father that you’re too young at 16 to be dating a 20 year old.”

“But I thought you just said – “

Emma raised her hand, “I said there’s nothing wrong with falling for an older man. When you’re mature enough. But I wasn’t much older than you when I met Henry’s dad, and it wasn’t healthy, believe me.”

Elsa rolled her eyes, “You don’t have to worry mom, Roland sees me as nothing more than a kid sister.” She suddenly felt a tear roll down her cheek, and she dashed at it in embarrassment. “Oh mom, I don’t know how my feelings changed exactly, but they did. I almost wish they didn’t. I mean, I didn’t want them to change. But we went for a visit when I was 14, and suddenly I noticed how broad his shoulders were when I hugged him and how good he smelled. Ever since, my feelings have just grown and . . . “ Elsa trailed off as sobs shook her body. Her mother gathered her in her arms and ran her fingers over her hair. “Mom, I love him so much, but all I am to him is his little squirrel. Like always.”

Emma pulled back and smiled at her daughter as she played with a strand of her dark hair, “That’s the way he sees you now, but someday, _he_ may be the one surprised to see a woman standing in front of him instead of a little girl. And when you’re say . . . 22 and Roland is 26 . . . Well, then the age difference won’t mean anything, will it?”

“I have to wait until I’m 22!”

Emma laughed gently, “Maybe, maybe not. Is he worth waiting for?”

Elsa closed her eyes and imagined Roland’s deep dimples when he smiled, the way his dark hair curled at the edges, and the flecks of gold in his chocolate brown eyes. She also thought about how easy he was to talk to, what a perfect team they made on adventures, and the way he both fought beside her and protected her. “Yes,” she breathed, “yes, he’s worth waiting for.”

Elsa stayed there, leaning against her mother, feeling lighter despite the headache all her crying had induced. “Mom,” she finally whispered, “after graduation I want to move to the Enchanted Forest.”

Her mother was quiet for a long time. Then, finally, she sighed and said, “I know.”

Elsa lifted her head off Emma’s shoulder and looked at her in surprise. “You do?”

“Well,” Emma chuckled, “for one thing, I know about the princess lessons.”

“How? And they’re not princess lessons, they’re lessons in decorum and diplomacy!”

Emma smiled, “Okay, well, whatever you call them, you ought to know that your grandmother can’t keep a secret.”

Elsa shrugged sheepishly, her mother had a point. Then Emma’s face softened as she traced the apple of her daughter’s cheek, “For another, I know you better than you think, Elsa. You’re not like your younger brothers, your sister, or even your father and me. You’re like your big brother Henry. Born in the Land Without Magic but meant for realms where people truly believe. I know Henry jumped through that portal to Narnia to be with Jill, but I also knew deep in my heart, that’s where he always truly belonged. You’re like him that way, sweetheart.”

“So you’ll let me go?”

Now a tear slipped down her mother’s cheek, “We would never stop you from choosing your own destiny, honey. But can you give us your senior year at least? I don’t think your father and I are quite ready to let you go.”

Elsa looked down at the pillow clenched in her hands one last time. Her friends may be in Storybrooke, but her parents were here in Orchard Hills. They had always been her biggest cheerleaders and had loved her more than any kid could want. Surely she could give this one thing back to them. So she took a deep breath and nodded.

“Sure mom. I can’t let kids like Paris and Tristan scare me off anyway, right?”

Her mother’s beaming smile and crushing hug were all the answer Elsa needed.

******************************************************

Elsa hummed as she walked into history class a week later. Even if Paris tortured her or Tristan teased her, it couldn’t erase the smile from her face. Her parents had planned a family reunion so everyone could see their new house in Orchard Hills. Her grandparents, Uncle Neal, Aunt Regina, Aunt Zelena, and Robin were all coming for the weekend. And best of all – Roland was coming too! His visits to this realm were few and far between, so she had a feeling this was her mother’s doing. A thrill went through her just at the thought of seeing him again. It had been a long time – 8 months. She had turned sixteen and had a growth spurt since then. Maybe he would see her differently now. Or maybe he had a girlfriend in the enchanted forest. Eight months was a long time, and things were different in the Enchanted Forest. Surely he wouldn’t be engaged . . .

Elsa was so lost in her thoughts that she was only half paying attention to her history professor. She was mindlessly jotting down the information on the board about an upcoming group project, but she was so busy worrying over Roland that she didn’t realize until it was too late that her teacher was assigning groups.

“And . . . you, you, you, and you.”

“Wait – what?” Elsa sputtered, shaking her head to be sure she’d really seen the three girls her teacher had been pointing to. Based on the look of horror on Paris’s face, she must have seen correctly.

“Mrs. Collins,” Paris called out as the dismissal bell rang, “this isn’t going to work.”

“Why not, Ms. Gellar?”

“I can’t work with her,” Paris practically shouted, her entire body shaking as she jabbed a finger in Elsa’s direction.

Mrs. Collins gave all four girls a stern look, “Oh, I see, teenage girl drama. Well, I don’t give a rat’s ass Ms. Gellar who stole who’s boyfriend or who shunned who in the cafeteria. I’m preparing you for real life, and in real life you have to work with all kinds of people. Good day, ladies.”

Mrs. Collins strode from the room, leaving Elsa to face the withering glares of Paris and her cronies: Louise and Madeline.

“Fine,” Paris bit out, “I have to maintain my GPA, so we’re going to make this work, and an A is the only option for me. Understood?”

Elsa rolled her eyes, “No Paris, I want to flunk out and look like a moron. Of course I want an A!”

“Well excuse me if I don’t know for sure the quality of schools in Podunk, Maine. Now, who’s house are we going to meet at tomorrow morning to do the project? We can’t meet at mine because my parents are dividing everything up for the divorce, so unless you want to duck as Tiffany vases go flying through the air, I suggest we meet somewhere else.”

“My house is being fumigated for termites,” Madeline said with a shrug, “sorry.”

“My mom is re-doing the entire first floor. Even if there was a place to work without saw dust, you wouldn’t be able to hear yourself think over all the power tools,” Louise looked at Elsa, “So I guess we’re going to your house, Ice Princess.”

Panic filled Elsa and her head spun as she thought of multiple fairy tale characters descending on her house, of her father’s hook that he kept in his desk drawer, and the Jolly Roger docked at the slip behind the house, protected by a cloaking spell. All sorts of things could go wrong. “I – I don’t think that’ll work. You see, we’re having a family reunion this weekend, and all these people are coming to the house – “

“Are you embarrassed for us to be seen by your precious family?” snapped Paris.

“Oh no, it’s not that –“

“Will you be singing kumbayah and playing charades from dawn to dusk?”

“Well, no, the reunion officially starts early afternoon, but –“

“Then what’s the problem?” Paris asked, and before Elsa could say another word, she barreled on, “Perfect, Elsa, we’ll be at your house at eleven o’clock.”

With a haughty flip of perfectly coiffed hair, all three girls turned on their heels and sauntered away.

 _Bloody hell!_ Elsa thought to herself, _What have I gotten myself into?_


	7. Normal Interruptus: Worlds Collide

Elsa Jones groaned as the sounds of a violin drifted up the stairs and into her bedroom. She shoved her pillow over her head, but to no avail. The sound of her little brother Charlie playing “Winter” from Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons would not be drowned out. She tossed aside the pillow in aggravation and stomped her way downstairs.

Charlie was in the corner of the family room which also housed his piano, guitar, and djembe drum. His drum set, however, was in the garage. Emma said there was no way she was allowing that noise inside the house. Charlie’s bow ran over the strings furiously during the most intense portion of the music. A few feet away, their father sat in his favorite chair with a coffee mug in his hand. The chair was angled so it was facing a view of the sea, but Killian wasn’t looking at the horizon. Instead, his eyes were closed, and his face was peaceful. He said that Charlie’s music always soothed the places in his soul still plagued by his former dark deeds. Elsa had asked her mother once why her love and the love of their four children wasn’t enough for her dad. Her mother had gently told her that two centuries of darkness left a lot of scars that took an awfully long time to heal.

So maybe Elsa shattered the peaceful scene with her teenage crankiness.

“Do you have to do that at eight thirty in the morning on a Saturday?” she shouted, loud enough to startle her little brother.

“But I have to practice,” he protested, “the fall recital’s coming soon.”

“Charlie has a violin solo with the high school orchestra,” Killian bragged, his face beaming with pride. Charlie grinned bashfully at his father and scratched nervously behind his ear with the end of his bow.

“And that’s supposed to matter to me?” Elsa grumbled as she shuffled towards the kitchen.

“It matters to me,” Charlie said softly in a wobbly voice.

Elsa sighed as she turned back towards her brother and took in his trembling chin and watery green eyes. She sometimes forgot how sensitive Charlie was. He felt things deeply, a trait that their father said made him such a natural with music. Elsa felt like a dagger was stabbing her heart as she took in Charlie’s wounded expression. She had always doted on her baby brother, ever since she held him as an infant when she was seven years old, and he smiled up at her; his very first smile. She walked across the room and gave Charlie a side hug and then ruffled his hair.

“I’m sorry, squirt. I’m just in a bad mood today.”

He smiled up at her, dimples forming in his cheeks. “That’s okay. ‘Winter’ is a pretty loud solo. Want me to play ‘Autumn’ instead? I know that’s your favorite.”

Elsa smiled back and rubbed his head one more time, “Sure, kiddo. Thanks.”

Her father mouthed a silent thank you as he followed her into the kitchen. They both went about making hot chocolate in silence, the warm sounds of Vivaldi’s “Autumn” soothing Elsa’s nerves. Most people liked “Spring” best, but “Autumn” always made Elsa think of warm fires, crackling leaves, and Thanksgiving dinner with their entire crazy family crowded around Aunt Regina’s dining room table. Elsa eased into a chair at the kitchen table, one that faced the sea. Their house here in Orchard Hills was a cape cod style, with a clapboard roof and a back deck littered with Adirondack chairs. The first floor was one great room with exposed wood beams on the ceiling and a back wall made almost entirely of windows facing the water. If not for the cloaking spell Elsa and her mother cast over it, the Jolly Roger would be right there in front of them, docked at their private slip.

Killian sat down next to her, taking a few sips of his cocoa. He was giving her time, she knew it, but he was waiting nonetheless for her to talk.

“I don’t mind you prying, you know,” Elsa finally said.

“Who said anything about prying? I was just wondering why, after three years of peaceful adolescence, you finally decided to start the angst.”

“Just thought I was being too easy on you and mom.”

“Is this about your classmates coming here today? Are you worried about us embarrassing you?”

Elsa glanced at her father’s intensely worried face. He knew as well as she did there was something deeper going on. “Partly,” she answered honestly, “but it’ also that.” She emphasized the last word, gesturing with her head towards Charlie who was lost in his violin piece.

Killian’s forehead furrowed in confusion, “Charlie?”

Elsa shook her head, “He’s nine years old playing Vivaldi, dad! Leia’s hacking abilities are so good, she got you a fake . . . everything. At nine! And I struggle with my trigonometry homework while Liam is doing calculus – at age twelve! Do you know how hard it is to have siblings who are geniuses, dad?”

“No, I don’t,” he replied slowly, “but I do know what it is to feel as if you don’t measure up. It was that way with my older brother. It seemed as if everything came easier to him. I told him once that he set the bar so high, I could never measure up.”

“Yeah, exactly!” Elsa felt some measure of relief just hearing that the way she felt was normal. “I feel like I don’t even belong at Chilton. I feel so behind everyone else, Dad.”

Killian scooted over and put his arm around his oldest daughter, “I know that feeling all too well, lass. Growing up the way I did, I never got any schooling. Liam at least taught me to read. But when I went into the Royal Navy, I had so much catching up to do.”

“But you did it,” Elsa supplied, “you know Greek and Latin, and part of the reason I love to read is because of you. Belle says you’ve read practically every book in the library. And now you have a master’s degree and teach at the university.”

Killian smiled, “Yes, but it wasn’t easy. I think it helped that I valued learning so much. I never took it for granted. Your mother never got the greatest education growing up, either. We both wanted for the four of you what we never had. That’s part of the reason we moved here, Elsa.”

“You moved here for Liam, Leia, and Charlie you mean.”

“No,” her father told her firmly, turning her gently by the shoulders to face him, “now listen to me, Elsa Elizabeth Jones, you sell yourself short. Your IQ, your grades, and your test scores were all plenty high enough to get into that school on your own merit. You were reading the classics by the time you were eight. You know four languages.”

Elsa rolled her eyes at that, “Daddy please! Knowing ancient Greek, Latin, elvish, and fairy tongue are not exactly helpful in this realm.”

“It’s helpful in the Enchanted Forest.”

Elsa gaped in surprise as she took in her father’s profile. He was trying to look nonchalant as he took a sip of cocoa, but his tense jaw and the narrowing of his eyes gave him away. She shouldn’t have been surprised, though. Her parents talked to each other about everything.

“So Mom told you.”

It wasn’t a question.

He finally turned to her with eyes that were swimming with unshed tears, “She also said you promised us one year.” He lowered his mug to grasp her hand and then kissed it, “I want the world for you, my precious lass. I’ll savor every moment of this coming year, and then I’ll watch with pride as you step into your destiny.”

Her father did always have a way with words.

“Oh Daddy,” she gasped, throwing her arms around his neck, “I love you so much.”

“And I love you too, princess. More than you could ever know.”

*********************************************************

The Jones household was scurrying with activity in preparation for a houseful of visitors. Leia was upstairs changing sheets and setting out guest towels while Charlie set up air mattresses in the basement. Liam was out on the back deck with their father setting up the fire pit. Emma Jones’ backside was the only thing visible as she fished meat out of their deep freezer in the garage. Her mumbled voice shouted something at Elsa the same moment the doorbell rang.

“My fr- classmates are here, mom!” Elsa shouted. “I have to get the door!”

Elsa was slightly out of breath as she pulled the door open, partly from shouting at her mother and partly from nerves, “Hey!” she said with a fake smile at the sight of Paris, Louise, and Madeline on her front stoop. They all had bored, slightly irritated expressions on their face.

Basically, same as always.

“Let’s get this over with,” Paris muttered as she brushed past Elsa, the other two girls on her heels.

“I like to work in the living room around the coffee table,” Elsa explained as she hurried in behind them, “that’s why my stuff is already there. But we can work at the kitchen table if you want.”

“This is fine,” Paris declared, dropping her stuff and settling to the floor. Louise and Madeline followed suit. Elsa wasn’t sure they ever got a say in things.

“Hello, girls!” Emma declared as she walked in from the garage, her arms loaded with frozen hamburgers, “I’m Elsa’s mom. I would shake your hands, but I’m afraid mine are full.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Jones,” the three girls all told her politely.

“Oh, please, call me Emma. Let me put these down in the kitchen and wash my hands, then I’ll bring you girls something to snack on.”

The girls all expressed their thanks as the woman shuffled into the kitchen, and as soon as she was out of ear shot, Madeline leaned over in shock and hissed at Elsa.

“Your mom looks so young!”

Elsa scratched behind her ear, “Uh, yeah, I know.”

“Well, is she?” Madeline continued.

“Is she what?”

“Young!”

The girls jumped when a hand reached down, setting a plate of pop tarts in the center of the coffee table, “Pop tart appetizers,” Emma explained, “to be followed by the main course: pizza rolls.”

Elsa’s mother straightened and looked directly at a sheepish Madeline before continuing, “And to answer your question . . . I was a teen mom. Enjoy, girls!”

Elsa was impressed; her mother had actually told the truth – technically. She never said when she was a teen mom.

“Okay, now that we’ve established that Elsa’s mom was an irresponsible teenager, can we please get to work?” snapped Paris, opening her history book as loudly as possible.

Elsa narrowed her eyes at Paris for insulting her mother, but since she wanted to get this whole thing over with as quickly as possible, she opened her own history book. “I agree, let’s get to work.”

“So,” Paris said, opening her binder, “the assignment says we have to create a government for an imaginary country. So first we have to decide what form of government we want to use.”

Before anyone could voice any suggestions, Liam burst through the back door, yelling at the top of his lungs.

“Mo – om! Where’s Dad’s cutlass? And the broadsword grandpa got me?”

“Liam!” Elsa hissed frantically. Her brother looked her way and went instantly pale, his mouth forming a small “o” of surprise at the girls sitting with Elsa on the living room floor.

“Check the garage,” her mother yelled from somewhere upstairs, “and your sister has guests.”

Liam’s face went from pale to red as he saw the four high schoolers staring at him. “Uh . . hi!” he said with a nervous wave, “And . . . bye!” Then he scurried out the garage door as fast as he could. Elsa closed her eyes and counted to ten.

Madeline pointed at Liam’s retreating form, her face a mask of confusion, “Uh, was he just looking for swords?”

“Yeah,” Elsa said vaguely with a dismissive wave of her hand, “cosplay. Now, where were we?”

Thank goodness Paris was laser focused on the assignment. “We were just about to choose a form of government.”

“Democracy, of course,” Madeline spoke up immediately, “that’s the American way, so it must be best.”

“Madeline,” Louise said to her friend, voice dripping with disdain, “have you been paying attention at all this semester? America is a republic.”

“And we’re not patterning our government after America,” Paris snapped, “or do you actually want a C? Oh, wait, you probably do.”

Madeline was evidently used to being put down by the queen bee, because she continued, unfazed, “Why can’t we pattern it after America?”

“Because it’s the easy way out! The path of least resistance. You have to take risks for an A.” Paris was grasping her pencil so tightly, Elsa waited for it to snap, “I can’t believe I’m surrounded by such incompetence!”

Elsa thought about her talk over breakfast with her father. About her talents being more suited for the Enchanted Forest. Then she thought of the lessons in diplomacy from Grandma Snow. A smile spread across Elsa’s face as she spoke, “How about a monarchy?”

“You mean a constitutional monarchy?” Louise asked.

“What’s that one again?” Madeline asked, her forehead furrowing, “Like would we have a parliament and a prime minister? Or was that a different one?”

“No,” Elsa explained, “I mean a monarchy.”

“You’re discussing monarchies?” an accented voice questioned from the other side of the couch.

Elsa’s heart dropped as she watched Louise and Madeline look up at her father. Madeline’s mouth fell open and Louise’s eyebrows shot up.

“Uh, guys, this is my dad.”

“Killian Jones,” her father said, bowing over each girl’s hand and kissing it. Elsa almost grabbed a pillow from the couch to hide her flaming face behind. Did he always have to act so . . . theatrical?

Madeline barely suppressed a giggle and Louise practically purred as she said, “Why hello, Mr. Jones.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, ladies. You know, if you’re studying monarchies, I could really help –“

“Dad!” Elsa cut him off.

“Yes, lass?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be . . . doing something else?” She raised her eyebrows, hoping she could make him understand that he needed to go away – now!

“Oh, right, the family reunion!” He flashed a dazzling smile and did another half bow, “Some other time, ladies.”

Elsa kept her eyes glued to her history book as her father exited the room. Her whole life she had to endure watching women of all ages fall all over themselves when her dad was around. So as soon as his footfalls disappeared down the basement stairs, she tried to cut things off.

“So I think –“

But she wasn’t quick enough. “Oh. My. God,” Madeline gasped out first.

“I know, seriously,” Louise added, “Elsa, your dad is young, too. And hot!”

Actually, no, he’s over 300. “Yeah, okay, my parents are young. We’ve established that. Can we please get back to work?”

“For once I agree with Elsa,” Paris said, nodding at her. Wait – was that a smile?

“Uh, no, we have to talk about this,” Louise continued. “If I were in his class at the university, I wouldn’t hear a damn thing he said.”

“Oh, I would hear him,” Madeline broke in, “that accent is sexy.”

“Okay,” Elsa said loudly, holding up her hand to stop them, because – ew! – this was her dad they were talking about, “I refuse to let you talk about this anymore.”

“But his eyes,” gushed Louise, her head dropping back, “did you see his eyes?”

“Yeah, every day of my life. In the mirror, too. Look, would you want someone talking about your dad being hot?”

Madeline got a faraway look in her eyes and then shuddered, “Yuck, no. With his love handles and his bald spot?” She shuddered one more time in repulsion.

“Okay,” Paris interrupted, all business as usual, “Elsa’s dad is hot, and Elsa doesn’t want us talking about it. End of discussion. Back to the assignment. I think the most efficient form of government is a dictatorship.”

Of course she would. Elsa shook her head, “Paris, you can’t be serious.”

“Dictators get things done, history doesn’t lie about that point. A military state keeps crime at a minimum, and such a government achieves military dominance, ensuring secure and/or expanding borders.”

Madeline turned to Louise, “Sometimes I think she’s a robot.” Then both girls laughed.

“It’s better than your idiotic suggestions,” Paris retorted.

“Paris,” Elsa began gently, “history also shows, does it not, that dictatorships can’t be sustained? All of them end eventually with shattered economies and weak infrastructures. Not to mention its citizens live in misery.”

“So what,” snapped Paris, “you wanna be queen of the Kingdom of Enchancia or some schoolgirl nonsense like that?”

“If someone’s going to be queen, it should be me,” countered Louise, with a flip of her hair.

“Please,” Paris groaned, “over my dead body.”

Before things could escalate any further, the doorbell rang and Leia bounded down the stairs, yelling, “Got it!”

Paris groaned, “Is everyone in your family loud?”

“Grandma! Grandpa!” Leia squealed as the door swung open, and Elsa winced. Her grandparents weren’t supposed to arrive until later. After her classmates had left. And why, oh why, hadn’t she asked her siblings not to say “grandma” and “grandpa”?

“How’s one of my two favorite granddaughters?” Elsa heard her grandfather proclaim. She also heard Leia giggle breathlessly and could imagine their grandfather swinging the blonde around in a sweeping hug. Before she could get her bearings, her grandparents entered the room. “There she is!” David Nolan cried as he bent to kiss Elsa on the cheek, “My other gorgeous granddaughter!”

“You’re Elsa’s grandfather?”

David’s face went pale and his eyes went wide at the sound of Louise’s voice. If chins had been hitting the coffee table when Killian Jones entered the room, they were positively coming unhinged at the sight of Prince Charming.

“David!” Elsa’s grandmother said with bright cheerfulness, “Didn’t you stop and see that Elsa has guests?”

“No,” David said through a false smile, “I didn’t see that, sweetheart.”

Elsa groaned and rubbed her forehead. She was getting a headache. “Yes, guys, these are my grandparents.”

Paris narrowed her eyes, finally finding Elsa’s family interesting, “How is that possible?”

“I was a teen mom,” Snow burst out, and Elsa suppressed another groan. Her grandmother couldn’t have made it more obvious that she was lying if she had tried.

“And good genes,” David added quickly at the sight of Paris’s raised eyebrows and incredulous look, “Our family has really good genes.”

“Yes, good genes,” another voice added, and Elsa was relieved to see her mother enter the room, arms loaded down with cans of Coke, “I thought you girls might be thirsty.”

Elsa helped her mother hand them out, and then her grandparents were quickly ushered out into the back yard. Emma sighed and took a sip of her Coke with a shaking hand.

“You know who your grandmother reminds me of?” Madeline asked somewhat dreamily. “Snow White.”

Elsa choked and spit Coke all over her history book. “Sorry,” she sputtered.

“What?” Madeline asked defensively. “You know, hair black as ebony, skin white as snow? I would kill for skin like your grandma’s Elsa.”

Before Paris could have another apoplectic fit about their lack of focus, Leia came into the room struggling with a duffel bag. “Charlie! Come get grandma’s suitcase!”

“I’ve got it, Leia,” another voice said, hurrying behind Elsa’s little sister. Her Uncle Neal flashed a grin and dashed over to give her a quick hug hello. He shuffled his feet and waved at her friends. She could practically see Louise salivating again. Uncle Neal was also handsome, broad shouldered and blue eyed with a chiseled chin like his father but with his mother’s dark hair. Pretty much tall, dark, and handsome personified. “Um, is Robin here yet?”

“No,” Elsa said with a shake of her head, “you guys are early. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” Neal said quickly, but Elsa thought she saw him blush. “Where does all this go?”

“Liam and Charlie are sleeping on the Jo – I mean, on the couch so grandma and grandpa can have their room. You and Roland will be crashing in the basement.”

He nodded and beat a hasty retreat. She wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t said hello to the other three girls huddled around the coffee table nor by the fact that he left quickly before she could introduce him. Neal was a man of few words and a bit on the shy side. Louise practically fell backwards as she craned her neck to watch him ascend the stairs with his parents’ luggage.

“Good genes, is right,” she muttered appreciatively.

“Wait,” Paris said slowly, “you called your grandparents his parents. So that guy is your . . . uncle?”

Elsa shrugged, unsure how to dig herself out of this hole.

“Your family is twisted, Jones.”

You have no idea.

And the hole only got deeper. Apparently, Elsa’s entire extended family was so excited about the reunion, they all showed up insanely early. After Neal, the next to arrive was Robin. The red head barreled through the front door, squealing and practically knocking Elsa over. Elsa couldn’t help the huge grin practically cracking her face as she hugged her best friend tightly.

“Oh my god, Elsa, I have missed you like crazy!” Robin’s green eyes sparked with mischief. “We have got to talk later. About . . . stuff. Is Neal here yet?”

Elsa narrowed her eyes suspiciously as her best friend’s eyes darted around the room. “Yeah, I think he just went into the kitchen to get something to drink.”

“You know, I’m thirsty, too . . .” Robin trailed off, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

Elsa was a little hurt that her best friend was abandoning her so quickly, but she didn’t have the time to analyze it when Aunt Regina and Aunt Zelena both came through the door. Both women embraced her, and then introduced themselves to her “friends” from school. This one was a bit easier, since longtime family friends that you called “aunt” as a term of endearment didn’t carry any baggage. But the arrival of Elsa’s aunts had her heart pounding for entirely different reasons.

Regina and Zelena had headed up to the guest bedroom to freshen up when a masculine voice sounded from the entryway, hidden behind a stack of hat boxes. “Robin, can you get in here and help me, please?” Roland’s voice called out. “How many hats does your mother need, anyway?”

“Roly!” Elsa squealed, leaping up from her spot on the living room floor.

“Squirrel?” Roland asked as he quickly set aside the hat boxes.

Elsa collided with him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He hesitated for a moment before hugging her back. Why did his embrace seem more tentative than the last time? Elsa stepped back and regarded him with a curious expression. Roland stood there with his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape. She felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she fussed with first her hair and then the scoop necked blue shirt she was wearing. She ran her tongue over her front teeth quickly too. What was he staring at?

“Roland?” she said tentatively. “What’s wrong?”

He gave his head a little shake and then smiled that familiar smile, deepening the dimples that always graced his cheeks, “Sorry, it’s just you’re . . . I mean, you grew – er – got taller, I mean.”

Elsa shrugged, “I turned 16 and got a growth spurt.”

“I see,” he said softly, then quickly added, “I don’t think I can call you squirrel anymore.”

The smile on Elsa’s face faltered, “Why not?”

“Roland!” a voice sounded from upstairs, and the young man jumped at the sound. “Where are my hat boxes?”

Roland laughed, and Elsa hated that it sounded nervous. This was her best friend! He picked up the hat boxes. “I better get these to Zelena,” he explained, and Elsa pointed him to the stairs. Her eyes lingered on his form as he ascended the steps, her heart sinking with worry. Things seemed awkward between them all of a sudden, and she didn’t like it at all.

“So that’s who gets your heart pounding,” Louise said in a teasing voice as Elsa sat down again at the coffee table.

“Oh, Roland?” Elsa hedged, picking up her pencil and gnawing on the eraser. “We’re just good friends.”

“He’s hot,” Louise went on, “and those dimples are adorable. How old is he?”

“Twenty.”

Louise grinned in an almost sinful way, “An older guy. Nice.”

“Yuck,” Madeline interjected, “he’s probably like her cousin or something. This is a family reunion, remember?”

Elsa shook her head, “Roland isn’t related to me at all. He’s Robin’s half-brother. And even if Zelena was his mother, I’m not related to her either.”

“So,” Louise said conspiratorially, leaning closer over the coffee table, “what kind of a kisser is he?”

“I . . . uh, I haven’t. I mean, he’s twenty, and I’m 16, so . . . “ Elsa felt suddenly awkward and jumped up from the floor, “I’m thirsty again. Anyone else want something?”

“To actually get some work done,” Paris answered with a roll of her eyes, “that’s what want.”

Elsa ignored her and headed for the kitchen. She was completely lost in thought as she walked around the half-wall partition that blocked the coffee table from the view of the kitchen. Until she saw her best friend pinned against the refrigerator – by her uncle.

“Oh, God!” Elsa cried, clapping her hand to her eyes. Neal’s mouth was on Robin’s neck, her hands were threaded through his hair, and his hand was – well, she didn’t want to think about where his hand was.

Neal leapt away from Robin at the sound of Elsa’s voice, but Robin was nonplussed. She reached her hand out to drape it across Neal’s shoulder and looked at Elsa with a smirk.  
“Well,” the red head said, giving Neal a heated glance, “I guess you figured out the stuff I wanted to talk about.”

Elsa was speechless – completely and utterly speechless – as she looked from one to the other. If there were ever two people in this world so completely different, Elsa had never heard of them.

“Please don’t tell my parents about this,” Neal pleaded.

Elsa’s eyebrows lifted to her hairline, “You mean they don’t know?”

Robin gave Elsa a grin that was almost wicked, “Your grandparents don’t exactly approve of me.”

Elsa groaned, “Fine, I won’t say anything. But can you get out of my way? I’m thirsty.” Elsa grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and then gave both seventeen year olds a wary glance as she walked out of the kitchen. “And find someplace else to make out. I never want to see that again.”

Elsa attempted to ignore it when Neal whispered something about his parents being in the backyard followed by both of them giggling as they ran hand in hand up the back stairwell. She shuddered. At least it wasn’t her bedroom.

Elsa walked out of the kitchen and stopped in her tracks when all three of her siblings burst through the back door.

“Dad said to get in the basement –“ Leia panted.

“because something’s coming,” Charlie finished for his twin.

Elsa’s heart leapt into her throat, and she strode to her father’s desk by the bay window. Ignoring Paris’s questions, Elsa pulled out her father’s spy glass and put it to her right eye. She gasped at what she saw, the water bottle slipping from her other hand and bouncing with a splash as it hit the floor.

“The Black Pearl,” she whispered, terror gripping her at the sight of the ominous black ship with its tattered sails.

“The Black Pearl!” Liam cried. “But I thought you sent Blackbeard to Agrabah!”

Paris jumped from her spot on the kitchen floor. “Look! I don’t know what kind of weird cosplay thing your family does for reunions, but we don’t have time for this! Our assignment is due on Monday!”

Elsa ignored the girl as she returned the spy glass and took the twins by the hand, pulling them towards the basement door. She turned to Liam, “The three of you get downstairs and lock all the doors.”

“But if someone with magic is on that ship –“

“I’ll put a protection spell on the door once you’re down there. Now go!”

Her siblings raced down the stairs to the basement just as a thunderous boom sounded from the backyard, shaking the entire house and making the windows rattle. Louise and Madeline screamed, Paris shouted more questions, and Elsa’s siblings ran downstairs with wide, terrified eyes. Roland bounded down the stairs shouting Elsa’s name. He grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around.

“Are you okay?”

“Y-yes, I’m fine. A pirate ship is coming. I – I think that was a cannonball.”

Roland relinquished his hold on her and darted out the back door just as Neal and Robin came running downstairs, hair disheveled and clothing askew. It would have made Elsa want to gouge her eyes out at any other time, but her uncle’s romantic entanglements were the least of her worries right now. Everything felt slightly surreal as Neal followed after Roland, Robin’s hand still in his. Madeline and Louise screamed again, and Elsa could see why. Neal had found a sword somewhere and had it clenched in his right hand. Elsa ignored her classmate’s terror as she turned her attention to the basement door. Once she used her magic in front of them, there would be no turning back, but her siblings’ safety was more important.

Before Elsa could cast the protection spell, the back door flew open again with a loud crash. Her father burst through, cutlass in hand. Surprisingly, the girls didn’t scream at the sight. Killian Jones reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a shiny steel hook. He removed his prosthetic hand and inserted the hook with the familiar double click that Elsa knew so well.

Now the girls screamed.


	8. Normal Interruptus: What this Family Does

When Elsa’s father pointed at her and her classmates, telling them in his most stern captain’s voice to get the bloody hell in the basement, Louise and Madeline were screaming too frantically to obey, and Paris began arguing. Her father just gave her a withering look and raced out the back door. Part of her wanted to go after him, the daddy’s girl part that was nurturing an irrational fear that she would never see him again. Because surely it _was_ irrational? Right?

But she couldn’t chase after him right now because her siblings needed protection, and her classmates were freaking out, and what exactly _was_ her life? So she flicked her hand in exasperation to transport them all to the basement. When the smoke cleared, Louise froze as if she were in shock, Madeline fainted, and Paris went on a tirade.

Okay, so maybe she should have eased them into the magic part.

Paris’s string of irate words were just background noise as she put a protection spell over the back door leading outside and the stairwell. Robin knew the counter spell, so if any of her family members needed to join them, they could.

Still ignoring Paris, she turned to her siblings and the girls and commanded, “Stay here!” just as the house rocked again, whether from cannons or magic, Elsa couldn’t say.

She went to dash up the stairs, but collided with Robin. On her heels were Neal and Roland.

“Your dad says there’s an armory hidden down here,” Neal said, all business, “where?”

Elsa reached for a copy of J.M. Barrie’s _Peter Pan,_ and gave it a pull. The bookcase then flipped out to reveal a collection of cutlasses, broadswords, daggers, and a bow and arrow.

“Isn’t that a little obvious?” Roland quipped with a teasing smile.

Elsa shrugged, “We couldn’t resist.”

Elsa and the rest of her “family” began arming themselves to the teeth – even Charlie and Leia who slipped daggers into the belts at their waist. This proved too much for Paris.

“No way am I going to get chopped up into little pieces by the cast of _The Maine Chainsaw Massacre_. I’m getting the hell out of here because I swear to God, I’m not the kind of person to walk down dark alleys when a serial killer is loose or chat with some creepy anonymous caller about my favorite horror movies.” Paris took a breath when something seemed to occur to her. “Oh, God, but I did allow myself to get lured into the basement after the handsome home owner dons a huge, scary steel hook. Out of my damn way!”

But before Paris could attempt to storm out (which would be pointless anyway with the protection spell surrounding the basement), Robin rolled her eyes in irritation and flicked her hand. Paris fell to a heap on the floor.

“Robin!”

“Oh come on, Elsa, you can’t tell me she wasn’t getting on your nerves!” Robin flicked her hair over her shoulder, “Everyone should be thanking me.”

Louise, who was attempting to revive Madeline, started screaming again, and Elsa raised both eyebrows at her best friend.

“Fine,” Robin huffed.

They managed to calm Louise down, wake Madeline up, and carry Paris to the couch. Then Robin lifted the spell off Paris. The second she was awake, Paris opened her mouth to start yelling at everyone again, but nothing came out. Her eyes bulged as she attempted to speak again, clutching her throat in a panic when nothing came out. Elsa gave Robin an irritated glare.

“What? You _want_ to listen to her grating voice go on and on?”

Elsa just rolled her eyes and looked at her classmates. “Okay, guys, this is going to be difficult to understand and believe, but . . . my family? We’re all . . . that is to say we . . . there’s magic, and . . . “

“Look,” Robin interrupted, “every story you’ve ever read? They’re all real. We,” here Robin gestured to all of the young people in the room, “are the children of storybook characters.”

Then Robin went around the room, pointing at each of them in turn.

“Children of Captain Hook and grandchildren of Snow White and Prince Charming, son of Snow White and Prince Charming, son of Robin Hood and Maid Marian, and I” Robin grins gleefully “am the daughter of Robin Hood and the Wicked Witch of the West.”

Paris gesticulated wildly as her mouth moved soundlessly, Madeline’s jaw droppeed, and Louise raised both eyebrows.

“Wait,” Louise finally said, “let me get this straight. You’re the kids of Disney characters? Like some cheesy musical on the Disney Channel?”

Elsa could tell the three girls had anything but the hearts of true believers.

“Let’s show them, Elsa,” Robin said with a grin.

She conjured a fireball in her hand and then tossed it into the fireplace, which burst into flame. Louise and Madeline jumped and screeched. Elsa conjured a ball of ice and threw it, too, putting out the flames instantly. Leia walked up behind them with two thick books in her hands. She set one in Louise’s lap and the other in Madeline’s.

“Read up,” she told them, patting the covers. Louise and Madeline exchanged glances then both tentatively opened their books: _The Pirate and The Princess_ and _Once Upon a Time_ , respectively.

Elsa shook her head; the mental state of her classmates was the least of her concerns. As long as they weren’t in danger of getting themselves killed, she had more important things to do.

“Liam, Leia, Charlie – keep an eye on the girls,” Elsa turned and grabbed a cutlass from the armory, “the rest of you, let’s go.”

Roland grabbed her by the elbow before her feet could hit the first step, “Uh, no. Actually, we’re all staying here.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Are you insane?” Elsa shouted, “Robin and I have just as much strength with magic as our moms’ and Aunt Regina do. You’re your dad all over again with a bow, and I can say the same for Neal with a sword. And I’m a pretty damn good fighter too. Our parents need us!”

She didn’t even wait for Roland’s response, figuring it was a no-brainer, and headed for the stairs. Roland yanked her back.

“Elsa, I said we need to stay here.”

“Who made _you_ boss? I’m not a baby!”

“Your father made me swear, damn it!” Roland yelled, yanking her closer to his chest, which was heaving from the emotion of his outburst. “I swore to your father I would keep you safe, Elsa.”

Elsa began to tremble, though she wasn’t sure if it was from anger or from being held so closely against Roland’s broad chest. She rested her hand there for a moment, but then shoved him away as hard as she could. “He shouldn’t have done that. I won’t stand by when a fight is going on.”

“And if their first line of defense falters?” Roland challenged. “What then? Who will guard your siblings, Elsa, answer me that?” She deflated as she looked over at her brothers and sister. Liam gripped a sword in a white-knuckled grip, Leia’s face was ashen with terror, and Charlie’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. They were still just children, and her heart raced at the thought of them having to face any battles. Roland seemed to sense her thoughts and released her arm.

“Your father loves you, Elsa, all four of you. He could never bear to lose you,” Roland swallowed hard and searched her face intently, “and neither could I.”

Elsa’s lip trembled, and she suddenly wished she could bury her face in Roland’s chest and cry. But she couldn’t do that. Her siblings were looking to her to stay strong. So she squared her shoulders and put on a brave face.

“Okay,” she said with a nod, “let’s defend this family the way we’ve been raised to.”

********************************************************

“This is the most romantic version of Snow White I have ever read,” Madeline sighed.

“You think yours is romantic, you should read mine. This is romance of epic proportions,” countered Louise, “Elsa, your mom seriously went to the _Underworld_ to get your dad back after he _died_?”

“Uh, yeah,” Elsa muttered distractedly as she paced the room, her hand almost cramping from how hard she was gripping the hilt of her cutlass.

“You can’t seriously think that crap is real,” Paris snapped. Elsa was beginning to wish she hadn’t demanded that Robin undue her spell.

“They did magic,” Madeline argued. “Didn’t you see the fireplace?”

“We’ve obviously been given hallucinogenic drugs,” Paris argued. Her hand drifted to her forehead, trembling. Elsa had never seen her so unhinged. “And we’re just sitting here . . . sitting here waiting to be chopped up and shoved in their freezer . . . “

“Please,” Robin quipped with a roll of her eyes, “we would never do something that gruesome. We’d just rip out your hearts and crush them to powder.”

“Robin!” Elsa exclaimed, then turned to her classmates, “She’s kidding, I swear!”

“Well, your Aunt Regina does it,” Madeline said, holding up an illustration from her book, “that poor huntsman . . .” Then she bent over the book, engrossed again in the story.

Louise was lost in her book as well. “Seriously, Elsa I can’t chose which part I think is more romantic. I mean, your dad bandaging your mom’s hand with his teeth? Seriously hot. But then the horseback ride out into the middlemist field, the daring rescue with Henry from the tower, and he traded his _ship_ for her? I’m dying of feels here . . .”

Paris threw her hands up in the air, “You two are complete airheads! Why do I even try?”

Elsa ignored Paris, focusing on the outside of the house where the battle should be raging. “It’s gotten awfully quiet . . .”

Roland paused to listen, too. “You’re right. _Too_ quiet.”

Elsa closed her eyes and reached out with her magic, then her eyes flew open. “They’re gone!”

She flung her hand to lift the protection spell, then went racing out the basement door into the backyard. Her family and classmates raced after her, Roland and her siblings calling her name. She skidded to a halt a few feet from the fire pit. Scorch marks littered the ground, and there were three bodies lying on the ground. Louise and Madeline screamed again.

“Pirate,” Elsa said as she leaned over one of the bodies.

“This one, too,” Neal called.

“Not this one,” Roland said, a note of dread in his voice.

Everyone gathered around the body of a woman with long, jet black hair streaked with silver. Her dress was a glittery navy blue with billowing sleeves, dotted with a pattern of stars and crescent moons. Robin waved her hand over the woman’s form, which lay bent crookedly on the ground.

“She’s dead,” Robin sighed, “but she _did_ possess dark magic when she lived. I can still sense it radiating off her.”

“Dark magic indeed,” agreed Roland, “this was Morgause, one of the three half sisters of King Arthur of Camelot. She and her sisters Elaine and Morgan are all witches.”

“A witch from Camelot with a bunch of pirates?” Neal asked, “What were they doing together, and what did they want with our family?”

“I don’t know,” Elsa said with a shake of her head, “but we have a more immediate problem. This happened in the Land Without Magic.”

Elsa glanced at the houses on either side of hers, and out towards the road that ran in front of their house. She quickly waved her hands over the lawn, and the three dead bodies vanished. Then she turned to her classmates, who stood rooted in terror, and waved her hand over them as well. They all feel in a heap to the ground.

“How is that different from what I did?” Robin complained.

Elsa rolled her eyes, “We couldn’t have them running off and blabbing to anyone.”

“Guys,” Neal said quietly, walking up with a very familiar sword in his hand.

“Grandpa’s sword!” Leia cried out, her hands flying to her mouth.

Elsa waved her hand over the bloodied blade, then sighed in relief, “The blood isn’t his.”

Neal’s arms shook as he lowered the sword. Robin stepped up and wrapped her arms around his waist, and he turned and buried his face into her neck. The entire group was in shock.

“Where did they all go?” Charlie asked, his voice cracking, “You don’t think they’re . . . gone forever?”

Elsa pulled Charlie close and kissed the top of his dark head, “No, sweetie. They aren’t . . . dead.”

He looked up at her as a tear slipped down his cheek. “How can you be sure?”

Elsa smiled down at him, “Because when you love someone, you know.”

She caught Roland’s eye over the top of Charlie’s head, and he gave her a gentle smile.

“So what do we do now?” Robin asked from the circle of Neal’s arms. “Go to Camelot?”

“Elsa,” Roland asked, “can you still open portals like when you were little?”

“Yes, but it takes a lot out of me. If they weren’t taken to Camelot, I may not have the strength to get us anywhere else. I’m certainly not strong enough to send us hopping to multiple realms searching.” Elsa looked out to sea and took a deep breath of the salty air. Like the rest of the Jones family, the sea calmed her and cleared her mind. “If we can sail out far enough, I can contact Ariel. She may have seen something or heard something from another mermaid about the Black Pearl.”

She caught the eyes of the others, and they all exchanged nods of agreement. “Okay then,” Roland said firmly, “to the Jolly Roger, then.”

“Uh,” Liam spoke up, “what about them?” He pointed to Paris, Louise, and Madeline who lay in a heap on the grass.

“Can you two erase their memories?” Neal asked Robin and Elsa.

Elsa shook her head, “We’d need to make a potion for that, and all the ingredients are back in Aunt Regina’s vault in Storybrooke.”

“Plus we’ve never done it before,” Robin admitted grudgingly. “It requires pretty complex alchemy. Get one ingredient off by the tiniest degree, and we could have three drooling vegetables on our hands.”

“Your mom’s dreamcatchers?” Roland asked.

Elsa sighed, “Even more dangerous. We could pull every memory they have out of their heads, and again – vegetables.”

Leia sighed, “So I guess they’re coming with us. Then mom can deal with their memories.”

Elsa groaned and rubbed her forehead. A rescue mission was hard enough without Louise’s high maintenance whining, Madeline’s stupidity, and Paris’s sarcasm. “I guess we have no choice.” Elsa waved her hand, and the entire group was transported to the deck of her father’s ship.

************************************************************ 

“Okay, sis, we’re fifty nautical miles off the coast!”

Elsa turned to nod at her brother who was at the helm of the Jolly Roger. She turned to the twins.

“Did you find it?”

They nodded and Leia opened her palm to reveal a small, white shell. Elsa took it gently and turned towards the railing.

“What is that?” Madeline asked.

Elsa smiled wryly, “We jokingly call it a shell phone. Let’s just say they don’t have wireless access in the Enchanted Forest. My dad has used these forever to contact people. He got them – okay, stole them – from the mermaids in Neverland.”

“Mermaids!” Louise exclaimed, “Cool! We get to meet a mermaid?”

“Don’t encourage her!” Paris snapped, then groaned and leaned over the railing. Just when Elsa thought the girl couldn’t possibly puke anymore.

Elsa ignored everyone and spoke into the shell. “Ariel? Ariel, are you out there? It’s Elsa Jones, and it’s an emergency.”

“Ariel?” Madeline squealed, “As in _The Little Mermaid_?”

“Yes, she’s friends with my dad,” Elsa answered distractedly as she scanned the waves. She let out a relieved breath when the red-headed mermaid herself broke the surface of the water.

“Elsa!” Ariel cried out, “I was on my way to your house! Your parents wanted you to know they were okay.”

“You’ve seen them?” Elsa shouted back, then she turned to her “crew,” “Roland, Neal, quick, get the rope ladder.”

They quickly got the ladder lowered, and Ariel put on her enchanted bracelet so she could climb on board. She was smiling, as usual, even though her brow was furrowed in concern.

“Ariel,” Madeline breathed, “I can’t believe it! You were my _favorite_ when I was a little girl!”

“Oh,” Ariel giggled nervously, “if this is about that cartoon, I don’t sing. That’s Ursula.”

“The villain?” Madeline asked, face lined with confusion.

“Long story,” Elsa shook her head and turned to Ariel, “you said you spoke to my parents?”

“Well, not really, but your dad gave me this,” Ariel reached into the pouch at her waist and retrieved a ring with a red stone dangling from a chain.

Elsa took it with shaking hands, “The ring he gave to my mom in Camelot.”

“I was swimming along, on my way home from visiting my family, when I came upon a ship – The Black Pearl. I hadn’t seen it since that battle when you were little in Storybrooke. Naturally, I wondered who was aboard, and as I swam closer, I saw a figure standing with his back to the railing. It was your dad. His hook glinted in the sun, and I saw that ring dangling from it. Then he dropped it, and I knew he was giving it to me.”

“But he was okay?” asked Charlie, “And what about mom?”

“I heard both your parents voices, they were talking loud enough on purpose for me to hear. Barbosa is captain of The Black Pearl again, and he’s in league with a witch named Morgan Le Fey. They’re taking them to Camelot. That’s all I know.”

“Did you see my mom?” Robin asked.

“Or my parents?” Neal added.

Ariel shook her head, “I’m sorry, I only saw Hook and heard Emma’s voice. I wish I could be more help.”

“No, Ariel,” Elsa told her quickly, her fist closing over the ring, “you’ve helped tremendously.”

Ariel turned to leap back into the sea, but then turned sympathetic eyes towards Paris. She pulled a vial from her pouch and handed it to the pale-faced girl, “Crocodile tears. For your seasickness.” Then, with a splash, Ariel was gone.

Paris moaned, leaned over the rail, and got sick again.

“Take the damn medicine, Paris,” Louise snapped.

“No,” Paris said, with a shake of her head, “I’m not seasick, this is from the drugs they gave us. And I’m sure as hell not taking _more_ drugs from some chick who thinks she’s a mermaid.”

Louise snatched up the vial and marched towards her friend, “Take it Paris, or I swear to God I’ll pin you down and shove it down your throat.”

Elsa tried not to laugh as Paris’s eyes grew wide in shock. Paris clearly wasn’t used to anyone ordering her around.

“Fine,” Paris snapped, grabbing the vial and downing its contents, “happy now?”

“You better be glad crocodile tears work quickly,” Elsa told her.

“Why is that?”

“Because things are about to get a lot more bumpy.”

Elsa closed her eyes and lifted both hands. She thought of Camelot; its rolling hills, its glittering sea; its fields of middlemist roses. She felt that old, familiar tug in her heart as the magic swirled around her, purple mist growing and swirling into a vortex.

“Hold on to something!” Roland shouted.

Roland grabbed Elsa around the waist and held her close just as the Jolly Roger took a sharp dip and plunged into the portal. For Elsa, the world went dark as she lost consciousness in his embrace.

************************************************************

Elsa tiptoed across the damp, cool boards of the Jolly Roger, breathing deeply of the chilly night air. She made her way to the railing and leaned over to look at the moon reflecting off the undulating surface of the water. She took another deep breath, sighing as the familiar setting calmed her nerves. She shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Maybe a tank top and shorts wasn’t the best ensemble for a midnight visit to the deck. It had felt wonderful to slip into _below_ deck, however, where the air was stuffy. Her father had made several modern changes to the Jolly Roger, but air conditioning wasn’t one of them. At least there were modern bathrooms and real beds. The galley also had a real stove and a refrigerator. The Jones kept the galley stocked with food and kept changes of clothes in all the dressers in case of emergencies. Like this one, for example.

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

Elsa jumped at the intrusion, then scowled at Roland’s tone of voice. “Getting some air,” she snapped.

Roland strolled closer, “You should be resting. Opening that portal took a lot out of you.”

“Yeah, well,” Elsa shrugged, brushing her hair out of her face, “Robin snores, so . . .”

Roland couldn’t help grinning at that. Then he looked her up and down, and his eyes darkened, “What are you wearing?” “My pajamas!” Elsa answered defensively, “And what is your problem, anyway?”

“ _My_ problem?” Roland asked, both eyebrows raised.

“Yes, you! Ever since you showed up here, you’ve been acting . . . weird.”

“No. I haven’t.”

“Yes. You have.”

“I’m just trying to look out for you, Elsa! You need your rest, and you’ll catch cold dressed like that!”

“I’m not a little girl anymore, Roland!”

Roland apparently had continued striding towards her as they argued because now Elsa’s back was pressed against the railing and Roland was so close only about an inch separated them.

Roland swallowed hard, “I can see that, believe me.”

Elsa was suddenly aware of exactly what she was wearing: a spaghetti-strap tank top with no bra and a very tiny pair of pajama shorts. Her face flushed crimson at the realization. Roland’s eyes scanned her frame then locked on to hers. Her breath hitched when she saw his pupil’s blown wide. His eyes flickered again, this time to her lips. Was he going to kiss her? Roland seemed to sway a bit closer for a moment, but then he pushed away from the railing suddenly.

“And that’s exactly,” he said in a strangled voice, “why you need to go back below. _Now._ ”

Elsa shook her head and stalked towards him, “I don’t like being bossed around, first of all, and second, you aren’t making any sense!”

Roland searched her face intently for a moment, then gave a wry laugh, “You really have no idea, do you?”

“ _What_ Roland, explain it to me!”

Roland turned around, groaning in frustration. When he turned to face her again, his face was as stern as flint, “My father may have died when I was only four, but he taught me to live by a code. The merry men all live by it, Elsa. And I’ll be damned if I let myself break your heart, no matter how strong the temptation may be.”

With that, he stomped loudly towards the ladder that lead to the hold where he was bunking with Elsa’s brothers and uncle.

“Take the next watch if you insist on staying up,” he muttered without even looking at her. He slammed the hold’s cover behind him so loudly it made Elsa jump.

Elsa placed a hand to her pounding heart as she looked out to sea again. They would reach the shores of Camelot by dawn, and then who knew what dangers they would face? But for this moment, all Elsa wanted was her mother.

“Mom,” she said into the darkness, “I _really_ need to talk to you.”

Elsa pulled her father’s ring from where it hung inside her tank top. She clasped it in her fist and closed her eyes tightly. When she opened them, tears were pooled at the corners of her eyes, but a smile graced her face.

“We will find you, mom and dad. We will _always_ find you. Because that’s what this family does.”


	9. Eavesdropping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma Swan Jones keeps accidentally eavesdropping on her daughter Elsa Jones and the young man she loves, Roland Locksley. However, Emma is kind of glad it keeps happening because . . . well, let's just say Roland will have to prove his mettle if he ever hopes to date the daughter of The Savior and Captain Hook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are new to this universe, two important things:  
> 1\. This story was written before season six aired, so it is canon divergent from the season five finale on.  
> 2 In the previous story in this series, "Normal Interruptus", Elsa Jones decided to move to the Enchanted Forest after high school and take the throne of Misthaven.
> 
> This fic is a gift to bethacaciakay. I was starting to wonder if anyone but me cared about this verse anymore. I was determined to finish it for my own sake, but a comment from bethacaciakay asking when I would update this next kicked my muse into gear. So thank you!

**Elsa Jones’s 17 th Birthday**

Emma hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on her daughter, truly she hadn’t. She had just happened to be at the right place at the right time. Or the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on how you looked at it. And she hadn’t meant to keep doing it, either, she swears. It was just a happy coincidence that it always seemed to happen on Elsa’s birthday. When she was with Roland. Or an unhappy coincidence. Depending on how you looked at it.

The first time it happened, all Emma was trying to do was get some air. There was a reason she and Killian only visited the Enchanted Forest for short trips. Because they both (even her 300 year old pirate) had grown accustomed to modern conveniences. Like air conditioning. No one watching a ballroom scene in a Disney cartoon could possibly imagine how stuffy and hot they could become. Once the cool air hit Emma’s skin, she was loathe to return to the mass of humanity inside. So she sank gratefully to a wrought iron bench in the palace garden and pulled her heavy layer of skirts all the way up to her thighs in a very unladylike fashion. If her mother could see her, she would have a fit.

So when her daughter Elsa had stomped angrily through the rose arbor behind Emma, it took her forever to rearrange her lavender gown which was comprised of far more fabric than Emma deemed necessary. By the time she was decent (by royal standards), Roland had already found Elsa and the two were in the midst of a full-blown argument. So Emma did what anyone else would have done. Hid behind a bush to avoid all parties involved from being humiliated.

“I don’t understand why the hell you’re so mad!” Roland shouted, pulling Elsa around gently by the elbow.

Elsa yanked her arm away. “Of course you don’t.”

Roland crossed his arms and leaned into Elsa’s personal space, “I’m head of the royal guard and _your_ personal body guard. What I did is standard procedure.”

Elsa barked a sarcastic laugh and used air quotes to repeat his words, “ _Standard procedure_. Well, you’re not just my bodyguard, you’re my best friend. So excuse me if I don’t want you dead.”

Roland pursed his lips. “So who’s supposed to test your food, then?”

“I don’t know!” Elsa shouted in exasperation. She punctuated her next words by shoving Roland in the chest. “Anyone but you.”

Roland didn’t so much as waver against Elsa’s shove, which was impressive. Emma knew well how strong her daughter was. She tiptoed closer to get a better look through the leaves of the rose bush and saw that Elsa’s hands were still planted against Roland’s chest. Her head was down, but the light of the moon illuminated her daughter’s face. It was flushed.

“Elsa . . .” Roland said with ragged breath. He placed two fingers under Elsa’s chin and tilted her face up. His voice trailed off as he gazed into her eyes. Emma narrowed her own eyes as she watched them. She wasn’t a meddling parent, but in this case, she itched to intervene. Roland was 21 and had no business kissing her daughter who had been seventeen for all of four hours.

But Emma needn’t have worried. Roland dropped his hand from Elsa’s face and took a step back. Emma suppressed a chuckle when she saw Elsa’s eyes spark with anger in the moonlight. Emma knew well that hell had no fury like Elsa Elizabeth Jones. She had just the right mixture of both her parents to make her the most feisty spitfire the world had ever known.

“Let’s talk about something else, then,” Elsa said, punctuating each word with barely constrained frustration. “Let’s talk about what you meant 8 months ago on my father’s ship.”

Roland turned away from her and muttered, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh yes you do,” Elsa spat back.

Emma knew, too. Her daughter had confided in her about the whole thing. And Emma couldn’t lie; it had her worried. Roland remained silent, so Elsa stepped around him to get in his face again.

“You said you didn’t want to break my heart.” Elsa reminded him. Roland looked away, his jaw clenching. Elsa shook him by the shoulders to try and get him to make eye contact. “You said something about temptation. Tell me, Roland, please! Things haven’t been right between us since, and it kills me!”

Roland stepped back once again, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t even know what I meant, Elsa. We were all worried and scared. I was especially worried about you, so I guess I said things I didn’t really mean.”

Emma watched her daughter’s face crumple as Roland turned his back on her. She turned and ran from the garden, and Emma saw the moonlight reflect off the tears glistening on her cheeks. Emma took a step to go after her daughter, but then paused. She regarded Roland for a moment; the way his shoulders sagged a bit and the way he covered his face with his hands. She decided then that the best course of action was to talk to _him_.

Emma stepped through the rose arbor, clearing her throat loudly. Roland startled and turned her way. His face, which was a mask of tortured agony, quickly cleared as he bowed to Emma.

“Your highness.”

“Please,” Emma said with a wave of her hand, “that’s totally unnecessary.”

Roland rose from the bow, his eyebrow arched in surprise. “Not with my new title. And especially not with Elsa officially announced as heir apparent to the throne of Misthaven.”

Emma nodded, stepping closer, “Yes, I understand that, Roland, but our families have been intertwined for many years now. I see no reason to be so formal. You can call me Emma or Mrs. Jones, if that’s more comfortable for you.”

“Okay . . . Mrs. Jones,” Roland told her, shuffling his feet a bit nervously. Emma smiled knowingly. They both understood each other.

“I’ll cut to the chase. I know you’re in love with my daughter.”

Roland’s mouth fell open and even the shadows couldn’t conceal the blush that rose to his cheeks. “I . .. I . . .” he cleared his throat and composed himself, “I assure you your high- I mean Mrs. Jones – nothing untoward has happened between Elsa and I.”

“Good. Because she’s only seventeen.”

Roland swallowed under Emma’s intense gaze. “I’m aware of the age difference, believe me. My feelings for Elsa took me completely by surprise. I only started seeing her differently about 8 months ago, and I promise I have no plans to act on my feelings or even express them. If Elsa will let it be that is . . . “

“But you plan on expressing them at a later date?” Emma crossed her arms over her chest, putting on the demeanor of sheriff interrogating a perp.

“I had hoped,” Roland choked out nervously, “to do so once Elsa was of age. On her 18th birthday.”

Emma’s calm and cool sheriff’s demeanor faltered. “18!” Roland just stood there, eyeing her nervously. Emma massaged her temple. “Look, Roland, I know 18 is considered an adult in the Enchanted Forest, but in the Land Without Magic –“

“In your land young people can go to war at that age. Is that not correct?”

Emma sighed and shook her head, “Yes, Roland, but please hear me out. I had Henry at 18, by an older guy.”

Roland’s eyes grew wide. “I assure you, I have absolutely no intention of –“

Emma quickly waved him off, “I know that, Roland, but sometimes the best intentions don’t work out. Besides, I don’t want Elsa tied down in an intense relationship like I was at her age. She has so much to deal with already, learning to rule Misthaven. Can you wait until she’s 21?”

Now it was Roland’s turn to exclaim in surprise, “21! How about 19?”

Emma’s mouth narrowed into a thin line. “You think this is a negotiation? You barter for my daughter’s hand in exchange for three goats or something? She’s my daughter!”

“And she has a right to make her own decisions, wouldn’t you say?”

Emma lowered her head to gaze at the grass at her feet. Guilt suddenly pricked at her. Should she even be having this conversation without Elsa’s input? But then she imagined Elsa, pregnant and scared like she was at 18. Emma lifted her face and squared her shoulders. “20 then. She will no longer be a teenager and the age difference won’t matter so much. Do I have your word, Roland?”

He bowed, “Yes, I vow it to you. And my word is oak, your highness.”

Emma didn’t bother correcting him.

***********************************************

“What do you mean Roland has _feelings_ for Elsa!”

Killian’s voice thundered and echoed within the stone walls of their chamber, and Emma sighed. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him. But no, that wouldn’t have worked. They tell each other everything.

“I knew that boy was trouble after they climbed that bloody beanstalk together,” Killian grumbled. “I told you that, remember?”

“He’s not _trouble_ ,” Emma clarified, “he’s just in love.”

“With my little girl!” Killian took deep breaths to calm himself, bracing his good hand against the stone wall. He shook his head. “I’m having to leave her behind as it is. And now this . . .”

Emma came up behind her husband and wrapped her arms around his waist. She pressed her cheek to his bare back and said quietly against his skin, “At least you know he’ll look out for her. He said he’d die for her. Remember?”

“Aye, I remember,” Killian muttered as he turned to face her, “and you should have listened to my concerns then.”

Emma laughed, “She was only twelve then, Killian! It was completely platonic.”

“Well it isn’t now,” Killian countered, pacing the room. He paused and looked towards their chamber door. Realization dawned on his face and he gestured towards the castle hallway. “And his chambers are right across the hall from hers! And we’ll be gone!”

Emma was slightly glad that Kilian was freaking out; it meant she didn’t have to. And calming him down was improving her own perspective. She crawled under the bed covers as she gave him a comforting smile. “He has to be nearby because he’s her bodyguard. And Roland has that strong, moral code that all Merry Men have. We should probably be relieved that he’s so near.”

Killian dropped to the edge of the bed and put his head in his hand, “Strong moral code? You mean the same one that his father had when he slept with Regina while his wife was a popsicle?”

Emma rolled her eyes, “That’s hardly fair, Killian. It was an odd situation, and it wasn’t even Marian. It was Zelena.”

“Robin didn’t know that!”

Emma rose up on her knees and came close, wrapping her arms around him and running her fingers through his chest hair. “Roland vowed he wouldn’t pursue Elsa until she’s older, and I can tell he took that vow seriously. Now, stop stressing out and come to bed.”

Killian was still pouting, but he allowed Emma to pull him into the bed next to her. Emma snuggled against his side, and he pulled her close, his stump resting against her upper thigh.

“I don’t like that term _bodyguard_ ,” he grumbled.

Emma couldn’t help laughing. Maybe they were worrying about nothing after all.

****************************************************

**Elsa Jones’s 18 th Birthday**

The next time Emma eavesdropped on her daughter was a year later. Another ball was planned for Elsa’s 18th birthday, and for some reason, Snow White had decided the festivities should last all day, beginning with brunch on the terrace. Now it was noon and Emma was starving. She didn’t do well with an eating schedule of brunch followed by “light refreshments” at three and a banquet at seven. And the food here may have improved since that chimera in Cora’s camp, but it still wasn’t grilled cheese and onion rings at Granny’s.

So that’s why Emma was hidden in the far reaches of the pantry in the palace kitchen when her daughter came stomping in, yanking a belligerent Roland behind her.

“Do you know how humiliating this is, Elsa?” Roland protested. (Though Emma could clearly see from her hiding place behind the pantry door that he was still allowing Elsa to drag him along.) “I’m not a baby. I get injured all the time without your fussing.”

“Not a baby, huh?” Elsa asked with a roll of her eyes. “So why are you whining? Sit.”

Roland obeyed his queen without protest, though Emma had a feeling his obedience had nothing to do with Elsa’s title. Elsa then gathered supplies from a shelf behind her: a roll of linen, a bottle of medicinal spirits, and a muslin kitchen towel. She pumped water into the sink to wet the towel, then came back to face Roland. Emma was impressed at how naturally she had taken to life in this world so different than the one she had been born into.

“You shouldn’t be dealing with this, Elsa,” Roland argued. “This is your birthday celebration. You should be out there enjoying yourself.”

Elsa’s face snapped up at Roland’s words. “How can I enjoy myself when you got shot in my place?”

“It’s my job,” Roland corrected, “and it’s just a scratch.”

Elsa crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow at him, “Well, today you took your job just a little too far, in my opinion. Did you think Robin was trying to assassinate me?”

“Of course not! But you know my sister! She was paying more attention to Philip Jr. than the archery. If I hadn’t pushed you out of the way –“

“ _I_ would have gotten a scratch.”

“Unacceptable.”

“You’re impossible.”

The two stopped bantering and simply smiled at one another. Emma watched her daughter’s gaze flicker to Roland’s lips, and Roland seemed to notice too. He shook his head and gave a nervous laugh.

“Okay, nurse,” he teased, “what now?”

Elsa’s face tinged pink and her hands shook a little as she picked up the wet towel. “Um, I need to clean it first. Take your shirt off.”

Now it was Roland who was flushing. “Is that necessary?”

Elsa rolled her eyes, “How else can I do it? The arrow nicked your shoulder.”

Roland nodded and ducked his head as he nervously fumbled with his buttons. Emma _really_ wished she had made her presence known sooner. Now she _definitely_ couldn’t saunter casually out of the pantry. Instead, she stepped away from the door so she could no longer see the two young people. She heard Roland hiss in pain and assumed Elsa was wiping the blood away.

“Sorry,” Elsa said softly, “and Roland this is much more than a scratch! Do you think it needs stitches?”

“No way am I letting you near me with a needle!”

“There you go being a baby again,” Elsa teased, but with less heat behind it this time.

It was silent for long moments, and Emma really had to resist the urge to peek again. Roland was alone with Elsa in a position that could become compromising. Would he hold to his vow?

“Elsa,” Roland said softly, voice thick with emotion, “do you see now why I came to your aid?”

It took her daughter so long to answer, that Emma couldn’t stand it any longer. She peeked around the door again. Roland was sitting on the edge of the kitchen table, and Elsa stood between his legs. She was closer than Emma would have liked, and if Killian were to walk in right now, she knew Roland would have a hook to his throat. Again. Elsa’s hand hovered over Roland’s chest as she gnawed on her lower lip. She finally lifted her gaze to Roland.

“No Roland,” Elsa finally said, and Emma noted a hint of attitude in her voice, “I don’t think I see at all. Can you explain it to me?”

Elsa edged closer, her nose brushing with Roland’s. Emma could see the conflict in the young man’s face. Thinking he would lose that conflict, she grasped the edge of the door, but before she could step into the room, Roland made his decision.

He took Elsa by the shoulders and moved her aside. He then stood up and made quick work of donning and buttoning his shirt. “You’re my responsibility, Elsa,” he said hoarsely, “that’s explanation enough.”

Then he strode from the room. This time, Elsa didn’t cry. Instead, she kicked a chair and flung the wet towel across the room in frustration.

*****************************************************

**Elsa Jones’s 19 th Birthday**

The thing about eavesdropping on her daughter was that in some ways, Emma was glad she kept doing it. After all, if she hadn’t eavesdropped on Elsa’s 17th birthday, she may never have had that very important heart to heart with Roland. And if she hadn’t eavesdropped on Elsa’s 19th, she never would have realized what an idiot she and Killian had been as parents.

Once again, the Jones family were in the Enchanted Forest for Elsa’s birthday celebration. And, once again, Emma needed a reprieve from the pomp and circumstance. And the people. There were just too many people. So Emma had found an escape in an alcove of the library. A hidden little spot where the chances of being discovered were slim. Which, of course, meant that Elsa and Roland didn’t discover her either when they chose the library as the location of their latest spat. Emma was beginning to see far too much of her and Killian in this relationship.

“Roland Locksley, you have gone too far this time!”

“The hell if I care!” Roland shouted back. Emma flinched. This was definitely their worst fight yet. “Do you have any idea what that slimy man is capable of? He almost forced your namesake to marry him, remember? Kidnapped her! Started a war with Arendelle! Ring a bell?”

Elsa rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think I know that? I’m going to be ruling this kingdom in a year, Roland! I’m not stupid! Do you think I’m naïve enough to be taken in by King Humperdink? I’ve actually seen that movie, by the way.”

“Well, then why the hell were you letting him get that close to you? His innuendos and advances were completely out of line! He’s twice your age!”

“Sometimes you have to play along, Roland! Let him think I’m a weak, silly girl. Let him think I’m enamored of him. Then he’ll underestimate me.”

Emma grinned from her hiding place. Yes, her daughter was Killian Jones all over again.

Elsa continued, getting into Roland’s face, “Of course, then you had to barge in and ruin everything!”

“Then you should have let me in on the plan!” Roland shouted. “Or do you enjoy torturing me?”

Elsa arched both eyebrows. “And what exactly tortures you, Roland? My political schemes? Or my suitors?”

The two of them had drawn closer as they argued, and now they stood toe to toe as silence descended. Both were breathing hard from the shouting, though Emma had a feeling they were breathing hard for other reasons as well. Their faces were flushed too, and it reminded Emma far too much of how she and Killian looked right before their first kiss in Neverland.

“A queen your age has suitors,” Roland finally choked out, “it’s the way of things.”

“But you don’t like it.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.”

Elsa raised her hand and placed it gently on Roland’s bicep, “It matters to me.”

Roland and Elsa were like two magnets drawing closer towards each other. Roland rested his forehead against Ela’s, “I don’t like it,” he whispered in a voice so low, Emma almost couldn’t catch the words.

“Then do something about it,” Elsa replied, although Emma wasn’t sure her daughter was really aware fully of what she was saying.

Roland’s lips were hovering over Elsa’s, and Emma felt a need to interrupt. But before she could, Roland stumbled backwards, shaking his head.

“I can’t, Elsa, I’m sorry.’

He fled the room, and Emma’s heart broke.

It broke because Elsa had fallen sobbing into a window seat. It broke as she watched her daughter’s break.

*****************************************************

“Killian, we’ve made a huge mistake.”

Her husband arched both eyebrows at her as she dragged him into the very same library she had been hiding out in earlier. He quietly, half amusedly, watched her as she paced the room.

“Those two,” Emma told him, shaking her head, “they’re like dried kindling, Killian. One tiny spark, and they’ll both go up in flames.”

“I assume we’re talking about Elsa and Roland?”

“Yes,” Emma sighed, stopping her pacing to come and lean against the desk next to Killian. “I overheard another one of their arguments.”

“You sure have a way of eavesdropping on those two, love. You sure it’s accidental, as you claim?”

Emma rolled her eyes and smacked him in the chest, “Shut up. I’m serious, Killian. I was so worried about Elsa getting into the same trouble I did at her age, I may have pushed her into it.”

“How so?”

“Sexual tension,” Emma sighed, “remember what that was like with us?”

“Fondly,” Killian quipped with a smirk.

Emma shook her head, ignoring his flirting. “If Roland keeps trying so damn hard to keep his vow, one or both of them may break. And I’m not talking about just a kiss.”

“So you want to release Roland from his vow?” Killian asked, and Emma could tell he didn’t like the idea. She turned to face him, taking his hand and hook in hers.

“Killian, if we don’t, I’m afraid what’s simmering between the two of them will get out of hand. Then they could make decisions with clouded judgment. Decisions that could be difficult to come back from.”

Killian’s eyes darted away from his wife’s as he bit the inside of his cheek. “I think you’re right,” he finally said with a sigh, but it wasn’t a sigh of resignation. Instead, it was one of further worry. “We’ve completely mucked the whole thing up. Now we’ve made Elsa forbidden fruit, and you know how that sometimes goes.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“What if once he,” Killian swallowed hard, “has her, he tires of her? What if he finds the prize less appealing than the pursuit?”

Emma shook her head and draped her arms around her husband’s neck, “My father worried the same about you, remember? But you told him you wouldn’t risk your life for a mere conquest. And Roland has risked his life for Elsa. On multiple occasions.”

Killian raised his eyebrows tentatively as he wrapped his arms around Emma’s waist, “So you feel confident this is the right thing?”

Emma exhaled a breath and rested her forehead against Killian’s. “No. I still worry they’re both too young. I still worry about the age difference. True love never comes easy in this family. Is Roland prepared to fight? To stand by her side no matter what comes?”

Killian continued his wife’s train of thought, “And how do we even know for sure that he’s her true love? If only there were some kind of test like in the Underworld. I suppose burying my hook in the lad’s chest and then sending Elsa to fetch him is a little drastic, aye?”

Emma chuckled along with Killian, knowing full well he’d never actually harm Roland. All in all, he was a good kid. If only the whole situation didn’t remind her so damn much of her and Neal . . .

“ . . . or Regina,” Killian continued jokingly, “perhaps she can whip up a poison apple for us. Elsa wakes him, then they have our blessing. If not, then, well –“

“Killian, you’re a genius!” Emma suddenly exulted, grinning and smacking her husband playfully in the shoulder.

“Um, what?” he replied, shaking his head in confusion, “You seriously want to give the boy a poison apple?”

“No, of course notj,” Emma waved him off, rolling her eyes, “but Killian, I’ve told you the story of what happened between me and Neal plenty of times. What would you have done if August came and told you that leaving me was the only way I could fulfill my destiny?”

“I’d tell him where to drag his sorry arse,” Killian told her vehemently, without a second’s hesitation. “I’d never leave you like that, especially not to be thrown in prison. I would have found a way to get you to Storybrooke and help you believe. We would have broken the curse the same way we do everything: together.”

Emma ran her hands over Killian’s shoulders and down his biceps, love for him swelling through her. How could he still move her so deeply after all these years? True love, she supposed. “And what if August was emphatic that leaving me was in my best interest?”

Killian gave her a crooked smile, “Since when do I listen to anyone? Particularly where you are concerned. Least of all to that sod of a puppet-man.”

Emma shook her head and suppressed a grin. All these years later, and he still wasn’t a fan of August. To say the least. Killian cocked his head at her and narrowed his eyes.

“But what does any of that have to do with Elsa?”

Emma just smiled.

**************************************************

This time, Emma was eavesdropping on purpose. Roland had gone out on the terrace after his argument with Elsa, leaving the revelry of the ballroom behind. He had left his next in command, Sir Gawain, to watch over Elsa. Emma knew his heartbreak must be great if he had entrusted someone else to guard the crown princess. He was rarely far from Elsa’s side.

Hiding behind an elderberry bush to the left of the terrace wall, Emma held her breath as her husband came striding towards Roland. She shook her head in disbelief at her own glamour spell. Even she couldn’t recognize her husband. Roland’s face registered surprise as he straightened, clearly wondering what business the man approaching him could possibly seek.

“Roland Locksley?”

“Yes,” Roland answered hesitantly, “who are you?”

“Let’s just say I’m Elsa’s guardian angel. As I was for her mother before her.”

Roland’s eyebrows raised a bit at that, “Pinocchio?”

“I prefer August now.” Killian extended his hand and Roland took it, but with notable suspicion. “I’m here because Elsa has a destiny. And it’s not in the Enchanted Forest. Nor is it with you.”

Roland crossed his arms across his chest, “What do you know of Elsa’s destiny?”

“More than you, I think. It’s not ruling this pitiful kingdom, I can tell you that. Or being with you. Another curse is coming to Storybrooke, and like her mother before her, Elsa is the only one who can break it.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You and I both know that Storybrooke is the last place you would ever want to settle down. But it’s the home Elsa needs.”

Emma watched as Roland’s hands clenched into fists and his mouth pressed into a thin line. She felt a bit guilty about this next part. Roland had confided in Elsa when he was fifteen and Elsa was eleven. The only reason Emma had found out was because Elsa suddenly was distant with Robin, who had been her best friend practically since birth. She had also suddenly become hostile towards Zelena, the woman she had called Aunt, had tea parties with, and went shopping with. Extending forgiveness despite Roland’s deep pain had not been easy for Elsa.

Killian continued, ignoring Roland’s signs of revulsion, “I know you don’t want to be anywhere near the woman who killed your mother. I know the pain and hurt you still feel being abandoned by Regina; a woman you thought could be a mother to you. They practically banished you here. To be raised in the woods by roughened men.”

Emma’s conscience was pricked further as Killian’s words hit their mark. The pain of them could be seen visibly on Roland’s face as his jaw clenched and his eyes shone with unshed tears. The young man swallowed hard, looking down at his feet for long minutes. Finally, he looked up at Killian with firm resolve in his eyes.

“If Storybrooke is where Elsa’s destiny lies, then that is where I shall be. My home is wherever she is; I will not abandon her. But I also won’t choose for her. If what you say is true, she’s the one you must speak to. It’s her future. But wherever she goes, I go to.”

A smile spread across Killian’s face as Emma’s own smile filled hers. She stretched her arms outward and lifted the glamour spell. When it faded, and Killian stood before him, Roland started. He blinked rapidly as Emma rose from her hiding place to come to her husband’s side.

“I – I don’t,” Roland shook his head, then realization dawned, “This was a _test_?”

Killian cleared his throat and scratched behind his ear, “Aye, lad, and I apologize. I wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable with the subterfuge, but at the same time, I would go to any length to protect my daughter.”

Roland narrowed his eyes at both of them. “Still, this was unfair! I can’t believe that you –“

“But you passed, Roland,” Emma cut him off, resting a hand to his arm. “I know what we did was wrong, honestly, but I had to do it. I just couldn’t shake my fears because –“

“Because of what Henry’s father did to you?” Roland supplied.

Emma sighed, “Yes, will you forgive us?”

Roland ran a hand wearily over his face. “You made me vow to wait until she was older, and despite the constant agony of doing so, I have kept it.”

“We know, Roland,” Emma said softly, clasping her hands in front of her, “and we realize now that it may not have been the best decision.”

Roland’s eyes darted from Emma’s face to Killian’s, and back again. “You mean –“

Emma glanced at her husband, who gave a small nod. She stepped forward, taking his hands in hers. “Elsa is heartbroken, Roland. She thanked everyone for coming, then left the ball early. Go to her. Tell her how you feel.”

Roland’s face lit up, his eyes gazing in wonder first at Emma and then at Killian. Emma chuckled and Killian clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Well, what are you waiting for my lad?”

A grin filled Roland’s face as he hurried past them. Just as he reached the door, Killian called out to him. When Roland turned around, Killian raised his left arm in the air.

“Just remember, however, that her father has a hook for a hand.”

A tiny smile played on Roland’s lips as it did on Killian’s. Yet the young man still bowed in reverence, “I will remember, Prince Killian.” Then he straightened and hurried inside.

“On second thought,” Killian quipped as he reached to draw his wife close, “I really like that boy.”

************************************************

All of Emma’s accidental eavesdropping may have created a nasty habit because Emma couldn’t help scurrying up the back stairs to the hallway where Elsa’s chambers resided. All of her talk to Killian about dried kindling and sparks bursting into flames had made her into a suddenly overprotective mother hen. What was she thinking sending Roland up to her daughter’s bedchamber?

Even Killian tried to talk her out of it, which was a bad sign. Emma argued that surely he wanted to come along and ensure everything was above board. Killian retorted that if he did that, they may as well plan Roland’s funeral. He may have given the boy his blessing, but he still didn’t want to think about - much less see – him actually touching her. Emma was on her own.

So her she was lurking in the shadows in the hallway outside Elsa’s chambers. Roland was pounding loudly on the door.

“Elsa, please open the door,” he called, “it’s important.”

The door wrenched open suddenly, and Roland sprang back. Elsa stood there in her bare feet, dripping water on the stone floor, her black hair slick and dripping. Her silk dressing robe was tied around her, providing sufficient modesty, but it was still clear that she had been in the bath. She ran her hand through her wet hair, flipping it across her shoulder. The ends had already begun to curl again.

“Roland, is everything okay? Are you –“

Roland stepped forward, grasped Elsa’s face tenderly in his hands, and cut off her words with a kiss. Emma couldn’t tell if the action took her daughter by surprise or not, but she clearly caught up quickly enough to return the kiss, tilting her head and wrapping her arms around Roland’s neck.

When they parted, Roland ran his thumbs across Elsa’s cheeks as he spoke hoarsely, “I love you, Elsa.”

She smiled up at him tenderly then leaned in to capture his lips again. “I love you too!” she breathed with utter joy when the second kiss ended. Roland gathered her in his arms, and Elsa’s next words were spoken against his shoulder blade. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

“And I you.”

Elsa leaned back in his embrace to smile up at him, “I doubt you’ve loved me as long. I’ve been crushing on you since I was fourteen.”

Roland’s adam’s apple bobbed as he gazed at her in adoration. He took a strand of her wet hair and twirled its wild curls around his finger. “I first noticed you as a woman, not a little girl, at the family reunion when you were 16. You jumped into my arms just like you always had, but suddenly the feel of you took my breath away.” He fell silent for a moment. Then he traced a finger down the side of her face, “Although, in some ways, I think I always knew. Deep down, my heart always knew you were my soulmate.”

Elsa’s eyes glistened with tears as she shook her head. “Then why didn’t you tell me? So many times I asked, in so many ways, but you kept pushing me away. Why?”

Emma took a deep breath and grasped at the stone wall behind her. _Uh-oh._

Roland took Elsa’s hands in his before he explained. “Your parents asked me to wait. The age difference concerned them, so they made me vow to wait until you were 20 to express my feelings.”

Emma wasn’t the least bit surprised at her daughter’s immediate and volatile reaction.

“They what?!” she shrieked, taking a step backwards. “How dare they! I’m going right now to tell them –“

Roland turned Elsa back towards him as she turned to go. Emma knew full well that her daughter let him. He pulled Elsa close, her fists resting on his chest.

“They meant well, my love. At your age, your mother had been abandoned and given birth on her own. She wanted to protect you, that’s all. And your father was floundering at that age, too. They wanted better for you.”

Elsa took a shaky breath. “They’re always saying that. And in some ways, I get it. But can’t they seem I’m not them? Can’t they see the love they always showered on me is protection enough?”

Emma’s heart was both touched and convicted by her daughter’s words. Elsa Elizabeth Jones always had been wise beyond her years.

“They realized their mistake,” Roland explained, lifting Elsa’s hands to brush a kiss there, “or else I wouldn’t be here right now.”

Roland arched a brow at Elsa as his lips lingered over her knuckles. Elsa smiled at him and he smiled back widely, his ever-present dimples deepening.

“So you waited these three years? For me?”

Roland took a deep breath. “Aye. But I don’t wish to wait any longer. We’ve known each other for thirteen years. Loved each other for almost half that. We’re best friends. I guess what I’m trying to say is . . . . though this isn’t the most romantic location . . .” Roland sank to one knee. “Elsa Elizabeth Jones, will you marry me?”

Emma had to clamp a hand over her mouth to hide her sudden gasp. _When did we tell the kid they could get frickin’ married?_ Emma had to take several deep breaths to keep herself from bursting upon the scene. Thank the gods Killian wasn’t there; Roland really would be dead. Emma held her breath waiting for her daughter’s response, and when she finally opened her mouth Emma almost laughed aloud. Maybe Elsa was more like her mother than Emma realized.

“Seriously, Roly?” Elsa sassed with an arched eyebrow. She released Roland’s hands and gestured down the length of her robe. “I’m in a bathrobe with wet hair and no makeup. How am I supposed to tell a story like this to our kids?”

Roland’s expression morphed from concern to a delighted smile, “Our kids, hm? So does that mean _yes_?”

Elsa nodded her head enthusiastically. From the tears pooled in her eyes, Emma guessed her daughter was too choked up to speak. Roland laughed and rose to his feet, scooping Elsa up around the waist and lifting her off her feet. Their lips met, and Emma couldn’t help the smile that filled her face. Maybe Elsa was a little young, but how could she not see how perfect they were together? And Elsa had always been an old soul, after all.

The kiss between the young lovers became more heated as Roland set Elsa back on her feet. A moan escaped Elsa’s throat as she grabbed Roland by the shirt and began yanking him towards her chambers. Emma’s heart lurched, but she felt rooted to the spot all the same. Was it really her place to intervene? She had to trust her daughter. And Roland.

“Elsa,” Roland panted, attempting to pull away, but Elsa captured his lips again. Finally, he successfully extricated himself. He laughed as he pressed his forehead to Elsa’s. “Love, we may have known each other forever, but this part of our relationship is new. We need to take it slow.”

He searched her face as he ran his hand over her hair, which was starting to dry in a wild riot of curls. Elsa shook her head at him and laughed, “Take it slow? You just proposed!”

He laughed softly in return, thumbing her chin, “You know what I mean.”

Elsa nodded her assent, but bit her lower lip as she looked coyly at him, “But I’m not ready to say goodnight.”

Roland brushed a chaste kiss across her brow, “Then how about you go get dressed, and we go for a midnight stroll?”

“I like the sound of that,” Elsa murmured, but then she looked up at Roland with a pouty expression, “but a few more kisses first?”

As the couple embraced again, Emma slipped away down the corridor, a smile on her face. Her days of eavesdropping were officially over.

At least where Elsa was concerned. After all, she and Killian had three more to eavesdrop on.


	10. Daddy's Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sweet fluffy story about Killian's thoughts and feelings on the day his oldest daughter Elsa Jones marries Roland Locksley. This is the final story in my series Journeying the Realms, set in the universe of The Last Battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of her age, Elsa and Roland ended up having a long engagement. So this story takes place two years after Eavesdropping.

Killian Jones couldn’t stop pacing the tiny room he was in. Back and forth. Back and forth. Whenever he sat or stood still, memories sweet and pure crowded his brain. Even staring out the window at the sea did nothing to keep his agitation at bay. Most would say that such memories would be welcomed, especially memories of a precious child who made a man’s entire world brighter. But they would be wrong. For on this day, such memories only threatened to turn the once fearsome Captain Hook into a weeping, sorry mess. For today was his little Elsa’s wedding day.

So he paced.

A knock sounded on the door, and he turned quickly to face it with a confused expression upon his face. It was too soon for him to escort Elsa down the aisle. He called out for the person to come in, and Snow’s face appeared around the edge of the door.

“You need me already?” he asked her in surprise.

“Well yes,” Snow replied as she opened the door fully, “but not for that. Elsa . . . she’s asking for you.”

Killian didn’t hesitate, but crossed the room quickly to follow his mother-in-law into the hallway. “Is everything okay?”

Snow smiled knowingly at him as she opened the door to the bridal chamber. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. Sometimes, a girl just needs her daddy.”

Killian entered the room to find Elsa pacing the room much like he had just been doing. He couldn’t imagine that said pacing was easy, since Elsa’s dress practically filled the room. The skirt was of voluminous silk (in a color that all the women insisted was called _antique gray_ ), which was fisted in Elsa’s hands as she made tracks up and down the room. It had a long train, though Snow had insisted that she’d seen many much longer. The path Elsa was walking made tight enough turns that she didn’t trip over the thing, yet her skill with the garment still impressed him. Emma was right; their daughter seemed made for this life, adjusting even to the fashions with ease.

“Elsa?” he asked hesitatingly as he made his way into the room.

His daughter stopped and turned towards him, dropping the fistfuls of satin with a loud huff of frustration. Even with the scowl upon her face, she was beautiful. The top of the dress was overlaid with embroidered netting. Silver filligree studded with tiny diamonds covered the bodice and sparkled down like raindrops along the top of the skirt. Elsa had chosen to wear her dark hair down, and it tumbled down her back and over her shoulders in thick, soft curls. The sight brought a lump to Killian’s throat as he remembered Elsa, age 7, trying on Emma’s wedding dress. He remembered how the thing swallowed her whole, the way she had tripped as she made her way across the room to him. _Daddy,_ he remembered her saying, _dance with me!_

“Daddy!” she said to him now, rushing to him and throwing her arms around him.

Concern filled Killian as he patted her back comfortingly. “What is it, lass? Is it Roland? Has something happened?”

“No, no, nothing like that!” she quickly assured, stepping back and biting her lower lip. It was something she did when she was nervous, one of the few mannerisms she had that she had gotten from her mother. Whenever she did it, or when a grin wrinkled her freckled nose, or she propped her dimpled chin in her hand, he marveled at the fact that he and Emma’s love were perfectly mingled in this amazing young woman.

“Then what’s wrong? This is supposed to be a happy day.”

“Exactly!” Elsa groaned. “Yet all I want is to skip to the part where Roland and I are already married. And alone.”

She collapsed onto a stool in the corner, and Killian awkwardly cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure where Elsa was going with this. “Perhaps I should get your mother –“

Elsa barked a laugh. “Calm down, dad, I’m not asking for a _talk_.”

Killian let out a sigh of relief, which made Elsa laugh even more. He pulled up a chair of his own and sat as close to Elsa as her huge dress would allow. “Then what is it, princess?”

“All these people!” Elsa groaned, slumping back against the wall. She began ticking things off on her fingers. “First, Robin thinks my wedding is the perfect time to stir up trouble with Uncle Neal.”

Killian furrowed his brow. “I thought that was over ages ago.”

Elsa rolled her eyes. “You know Robin. She keeps stringing him along with this on again, off again crap. And she knows it pisses me off!” Elsa rubbed her temple. “Why didn’t I make Colette my maid of honor?”

“Because you wanted Colette free to take pictures. Not to mention Robin is the sister of the groom.”

“And that’s another thing!” Elsa exclaimed, tossing up her hands. “Colette thinks she’s covering the wedding of the century, up in everyone faces like some kind of Pulitzer prize winning photojournalist. And Charlie’s following her around like a puppy dog. Does he not realize he’s 14 and she’s 21?”

Killian chuckled as he rubbed his daughter’s shoulder, “It’s just a schoolboy crush, sweetheart, he’ll get over it.”

“And why in the world does everyone have to be not only related but named after people? Do you know how complicated the seating chart was? I told Roland, when we have kids, we are making up completely original names. We’re not naming them after _anyone_. This family is confusing enough as it is.”

Killian opened his mouth to speak, but Elsa was evidently just warming up. “Which brings me to Lucy. You would think that having a ten year old as a flower girl would mean less whining, but I swear I’m going to strangle that girl before the day is over.”

“I thought she was thrilled about being in the wedding,” Killian interjected “Henry and Jill said she’s talked of nothing else for two months.”

“That was until she decided the dress she had to wear was _too itchy_. And speaking of dresses, Robin had hers altered, Dad! _Altered_!”

Killian blinked, shook his head, then narrowed his eyes. “And that’s . . . bad form?”

Elsa leapt from the stool and began to pace again. “Yes, bad form! She looks like a waitress at _Hooters_!”

Killian sighed, the desire to strangle his daughter’s best friend rising admittedly in his own heart. The lass was far too like her mother, wanting to make everything about her. Of course, that wasn’t what Elsa needed to hear right now. He rose from his own seat and gathered her in his arms. She clung to him.

“I don’t mean to sound like a bridezilla,” she moaned against his shoulder. “But all the bridesmaids were in here, and grandma was doing my hair, and everyone had an opinion. Then Lucy started whining, and Aunt Jill was getting onto her, and I don’t know – it was suddenly overwhelming.”

“So you threw them all out?”

Elsa leaned back and chuckled. “No, grandma did.” Despite her laughter, a tear had coursed down her cheek. She frowned as Killian wiped it away with his knuckles. “I asked her to get you because . . . there was too much estrogen in the room?”

They both laughed loudly at that. Killian offered her his handkerchief, and Elsa dabbed lightly at her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. Killian lifted her chin gently.

“I can tell you from experience, darling, that none of this will matter at the end of the day. You will be married to your true love, and for years to come, you will look back on this day with fondness in your hearts.” He quirked an eyebrow and gave her a lopsided grin. “And perhaps with laughter.”

Elsa giggled, dabbing gently at her eyes again. “You always know how to calm me down, Daddy.”

Killian swallowed at that pesky lump again. “I’m sure Roland is rather good at it as well.”

Elsa shrugged and winked. “But he can’t see the bride, now can he?” She looked down at her skirt, smoothing the wrinkles, and completely missed her father’s bittersweet expression. She looked up at him, then took a step backwards, extending her arms. “Well, how do I look? Did my meltdown ruin anything?”

His eyes shown with love at not only his daughter’s loveliness, but her spark and life. “You look radiant, princess. Roland will have no doubt that he’s the luckiest man in all the realms.”

Elsa’s smile was beaming at his words as she threw her arms around Killian’s neck. “Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered.

********************************************************

When the time came to walk Elsa down the aisle, someone had whipped the wedding party into shape. Nothing could be done about Robin’s . . . alterations, but she sedately walked down the aisle after Elsa’s sister Leia. Colette toned it down and became more discreet with her photography, and Lucy smiled sweetly while scattering rose petals down the aisle despite her “itchy” dress. Killian had a sneaking suspicion that Snow White had lectured them all. And he knew from experience how intimidating his mother-in-law could be when necessary.

But most important was the peaceful smile that graced Elsa’s face under her veil as she slipped her arm into the crook of his elbow. Just as Killian had predicted, Roland’s expression was one of utter joy and awe as he and Elsa locked eyes.

Now Killian stood with Emma in the crowded ballroom watching the pair share their first dance. He shook his head frustratingly and let a tiny growl escape his throat. Emma nudged him with her hip.

“Nothing you can do it about it now, pirate, she’s a married woman.”

“It’s not that,” Killian muttered, rubbing at his throat. He was glad Elsa had asked him to dress in his pirate garb. If he had been wearing a bow tie like on his own wedding day, he would have suffocated. “I’ve had this lump in my throat all day.”

Emma laughed and threaded her arm through his. “So do I, babe, so do I.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed deeply. Words were unnecessary.

The bride and groom’s first dance ended with Roland dipping Elsa for a kiss. The crowds cheered and clapped, and Elsa blushed prettily as he returned her to an upright position. Then she turned away from her husband and scanned the crowd. When she saw Killian, she met his eyes with a bright smile. The music changed, and Killian started with surprise. Elsa laughed merrily as she stepped up to him and took his hand and hook in hers.

“Dance with me, Daddy?” she asked, her blue eyes sparkling.

Killian blinked in surprise as he looked around the room. “The song? How did you manage it?”

Elsa gave him a classic Emma Swan look of mischief. “Magic, Daddy. It comes in handy.”

There was that dratted lump again as Killian walked with is daughter out into the center of the ballroom. Memories flooded him as he pulled her close and the music washed over him.

_Come away with me in the night Come away with me And I will write you a song_

Elsa smiled up at him as they swayed. “I have so many memories of you dancing me to sleep to this song. It didn’t matter how bad my nightmares were. You could always chase them away.”

Elsa words dissolved all of his will power, and the tears he had been holding back all day finally spilled over. “Words can’t express how I love you, my darling girl.”

She smiled at him with tears of her own shining in her eyes, then rested her head on his shoulder.

_And I want to wake up with the rain Falling on a tin roof While I'm safe there in your arms So all I ask is for you To come away with me in the night Come away with me_

**********************************************************************

Killian once again stood on the outskirts of the dancing couples, a wine goblet in his hand. He watched his granddaughter, Lucy, dance with Henry. Watching the way Henry looked down at his little girl brought back so many memories.

“He has no idea how fast it will go, does he?”

Killian turned to David and chuckled in agreement. “Don’t tell him. Let him enjoy it while it lasts.”

“She looks like her mother, doesn’t she?” David continued, gesturing with his chin towards Lucy.

“Aye, she has Jill’s coloring, her eyes.”

“Her chattering tongue,” David filled in, and they both laughed.

“But her personality is largely Henry.”

“Yes,” David said softly, looking into his own goblet as if it contained the mysteries of the world, “which means she has a lot of Snow in her.” He met Killian’s gaze then and chuckled to lighten the mood. “Who would have thought I would be a great-grandpa before a three hundred year old pirate became a grandpa?”

They laughed at that as Henry left the dance floor and joined them. “Please tell me I won’t turn around tomorrow and this will be Lucy’s wedding.”

“No,” David quipped as he took a sip of wine, “Lucy’s wedding will be next week. Leia’s will be tomorrow.”

“Hey!” Killian admonished. “Stop that. Leia’s still a little girl!”

His eyes found his younger daughter on the dance floor with her twin brother. Charlie spun her out awkwardly, and Leia laughed merrily, her blonde ponytail swinging. She paused to push her dark-rimmed glasses back up her nose, then her blue eyes widened in surprise when Charlie attempted to dip her. It ended in an awkward stumble of long limbs. Killian shook his head. Charlie was small for his age while Leia was tall for hers, most of it in gangly arms and legs. It was hard to imagine Leia with a beau, although Elsa had already been pining for Roland at that age. So far, Leia’s only crushes were the celebrities whose posters graced her bedroom walls. But David was right, the years would fly by. He massaged his forehead wearily and David chuckled.

“I’m starting to be thankful that I only have one daughter.”

***************************************************************

“Well,” Emma told Killian as she climbed in to bed with him that night, “you survived our first daughter’s wedding.” She cuddled up next to him and splayed her hand across his chest. “How are you holding up, old man?”

Killian gave her a wobbly smile. “Ask me in a few days.”

Emma didn’t tease him further, only pulled him down deeper beneath the covers. He held his wife tighter as he rubbed her arm absently with his hand. “You didn’t lose her, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Emma finally mumbled against his chest.

“I know,” Killian breathed out, “but it won’t be the same.” He was silent for a few moments. Emma seemed to sense that he was gathering his thoughts, and patiently waited. “That song we danced to . . . it made me think of all the times I comforted her when she had a nightmare. That’s Roland’s job now.”

He pressed his eyes shut tight, but couldn’t stop the flow of tears. Emma sat up and kissed his cheeks where the tears had stained them. When he finally pulled himself together and opened his eyes, he thought Emma would be looking at him as if he were being overdramatic. But instead, tenderness shone brightly in her eyes.

She pressed her forehead to his. “Just when I think I can’t love you any more, Killian Jones, you surprise me.” She kissed him tenderly, and when she pulled back, a look of mischief filled her eyes. “You know, the twins are already fourteen. It’s really not that far into the future when we’ll have ourselves an empty nest.”

Killian groaned as he let his head fall back against the headboard. “I thought you were trying to cheer me up! You’re as bad as your father!”

Emma arched an eyebrow as she leaned forward to nibble on his ear. “There are benefits to an empty nest you know.”

Killian wriggled his eyebrows at her. “Really?”

“Mhm,” Emma replied as she straddled him. “I say, Mr. Jones, that we embrace every season as it comes. It’s bittersweet, the kids growing up. But think of how much fun Lucy is.”

“Aye,” Killian agreed with a laugh, “all the fun of children without the responsibility.” He grasped his wife around the hips and yanked her closer. “You know, Mrs. Jones, you’re awfully wise.”

Emma grinned saucily at him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “What can I say? I’ve been married to this really eloquent pirate for about 22 years. He’s got a real way with words.”

“Is that so?” Killian smiled back. “Just a way with words?”

Emma ran her hands across his biceps, “Oh no, he’s got a way with . . . other things, too.”

When they kissed, both their lips were curled into grins. 22 years, five children, two weddings, and one grandchild later, Emma and Killian Jones still felt like it was their happy beginning.


End file.
